


Wherever Is Your Heart, I Call Home

by PiloteRebelle



Series: After the War [2]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Adventure & Excitement, Anarchy May Be the Only Option, Angst with a Happy Ending, Corrupt New Republic, Established Relationship, Exes & Childhood Demons, Finn Needs A Hug (Star Wars), Fluff, Force-Sensitive Finn (Star Wars), Found Family, Gay Sex, M/M, Poe Dameron Needs A Hug, Post-Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, Shara Bey's Ring, That's Not How The Force Works, The First Order Sucks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:35:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 76,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24465067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PiloteRebelle/pseuds/PiloteRebelle
Summary: Finn visits Poe in his new life as a Republic pilot, and they try to take the next steps in their romantic relationship. But, as always seems to happen, politics, war, and the skeletons in the closet interrupt their plans. **Fic is complete, updating one chapter per day.**“...This is probably getting a little dramatic,” said Finn after a moment, tightening his grip around Poe’s neck.“Well, you know I like a little drama.”“Yeah? What’s that called, being a drama queen?”Poe snorted. “Have you been talking to Pava?”
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Finn
Series: After the War [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1767100
Comments: 180
Kudos: 176





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the direct (considerably more epic) sequel to Hello, My Old Heart, so I recommend you read that first. The title is from the song of the same name by Brandi Carlile.

The public spaceport of the City of Luashe was one of the busiest places Finn had ever seen, and he hadn’t even seen it yet.

In his brief but varied period of planetary exploration with the Resistance, they had primarily kept to the Outer Rim, the wild planets in lawless space frequented by smugglers and pirates and shady characters with untraceable credits and a healthy distrust of both the First Order and the New Republic. Aside from the occasional foray into commercial planets in the Middle Rim, and the incredibly rare, less-than-standard-cycle drop onto one of the Core Worlds, he had never been this close to any place within the direct purview of the New Republic. 

The _Millennium Falcon_ had been orbiting Ganthel for nearly thirty minutes now, milling in carefully-calculated patterns with the other non-government, non-military, non-freighter passenger starships waiting for an available landing bay. Once they had dropped to sub-light and into the range of Republic communications, Rey had been advised that a construction accident at the spaceport was delaying scheduled arrivals. They weren’t given any further details about the accident, and even as Finn saw dozens of ships taking off and landing all around them, they had received no further communications authorizing them to land.

Finn was getting increasingly restless sitting in the worn leather seat directly behind Rey’s captain chair. He tried not to catch Chewie’s eye, knowing that the Wookie was not known for his patience and sensing his irritation rising at the amount of tension Finn’s agitation was adding to the energy of the cockpit. Still, Chewie kept careful watch over the controls, making corrections when new ships dropped out of hyperspace to join the queue, and Finn managed to keep quiet. He did suddenly realize that his leg was jiggling uncontrollably, and curled and uncurled his toes to try to relax the muscles.

“Can’t you just tell them you’re the last Jedi in the galaxy, here for a very important Senate meeting?” Finn finally blurted out, and Chewie roared something approving from the co-pilot seat.

“I have an entirely unimportant Senate meeting,” said Rey, serenely monitoring her share of the controls. “Senator Lya’ls just sent another message requesting a postponement to the late afternoon.”

“Yeah, but-” Finn started, and then sighed. He took another deep, steadying breath, trying to remember one of the mind puzzles he used to create for himself to solve during those endless, endless hours (months, years) of standing at attention on a starship, a lifetime of waiting patiently. Finn could usually keep his body quiet, though letting his mind go blank was a separate problem. And at the moment, he still couldn’t stop his foot from jiggling. 

Somewhere on the surface of the planet, in the middle of the thousands of life forms, dimly glowing, swarming the city like a hive of fluorescent bees, was a burning candle. Finn could see the flames without even closing his eyes to concentrate, the roiling swirl of red, and orange, and yellow tints to the Force energy that he'd come to associate with Poe: all passion and pain and pleasure and laughter. “He’s down there. He’s down there, _right now_.”

Rey tried, unsuccessfully, to hide a smile. “I’ve sent a message to BeeBee-Ate about the construction delay. He knows we’re here.”

“Oh, well, that explains the purple,” said Finn, watching the increasingly impatient vermilion ripple through the fiery colors, though it didn’t entirely explain the rusty aura that flickered in-and-out ( _nervous? Why would he be nervous?)_. Finn got the impression that Poe was pacing, somehow. “But can’t you-” and he did a little exaggerated hand-wave in the direction of the controls.

Rey laughed. “Finn, the Force can’t create a landing pad where none currently exists. I’m sure we’ll be-”

She was interrupted by a crackling from the comm. “ _Attention: Sandstorm,_ ” Rey’s standard name for the ship when she didn’t want to attract attention from the legend-seekers, “ _Y_ _ou have been cleared to land. Please proceed to Landing Pad 14._ ”

“Thank you,” said Rey, and she and Chewie seamlessly began flipping controls and pressing buttons to re-activate the thrusters and bring the ship down to the planet below.

From above, Ganthel was a faded brown color, its seas narrow and pale. As they neared Luashe, Finn saw some rugged mountains in the west lining a low, flat, arid-looking basin in which the city had developed. There was a small waterway, the only ribbon of green cutting through the middle of the rather unimpressive-looking industrial buildings, all slate and steel and duracrete; nothing like the golden, glittering skyscrapers and gleaming monuments he’d seen in holographs of Hanna City or Coruscant. But Ganthel had been chosen as the new seat of the Republic because of its extensive shipyards, two preexisting military bases and academies, and suitable distance from previously-occupied First Order territories, not because of any cultural pride or visual loveliness (or sufficient infrastructure to support the massive influx of bureaucrats, support staff, and hangers-on). This time, it seemed, the Republic was thinking strategically more than symbolically - or, that the symbols upon which they were relying were more austere.

And then the spaceport: full to bursting with landing and departing ships, enormous cranes towering high into the sky to build new platforms and lift bays and promenade shops, a colorful sea of bodies crushing along the walkways between the landing pads, flowing out into the heart of the city. The moment Finn heard the _Falcon_ ’s landing gear begin to descend, he launched out of his seat in the cockpit and tore down the hallway, through the main hold, to stare at the steel bulkhead of the closed exit as though he could pierce through it given enough determination and will. 

“Come on, come on,” he muttered to himself, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he heard the appropriate clatters, clunks, and releases of steam as the ship settled into place on solid ground. And then the boarding ramp was extending (had it always been this slow?) and Finn was racing down it before the end could touch the freshly-poured duracrete, jumping the last step, running straight into Poe’s arms.

Poe was already laughing as he was blown back by the hug (Finn’s feet left the ground, just for a moment), wrapping his arms tightly around Finn’s waist and burying his nose in Finn’s neck, the way he always did. “Well, hi there.”

“Hi,” said Finn, feeling his stomach churn as he breathed in that familiar combination of citrus and cedar and- “You got new soap.” It was slightly herbaceous, sharp-smelling in the dry air.

Poe chuckled. “Is that good? Bad?”

“It’s good,” said Finn. “I like it.” He took another deep breath and closed his eyes, letting himself feel fully engulfed in the flames for just a moment, warm and yellow. “I missed you.”

“You too, buddy.”

“...This is probably getting a little dramatic,” said Finn after a moment, tightening his grip around Poe’s neck. 

“Well, you know I like a little drama.”

“Yeah? What’s that called, being a drama queen?”

Poe snorted. “Have you been talking to Pava?”

< _Hello, Friend-Finn! Your biometrics appear to be optimal and fully functional!_ > BB-8 beeped cheerfully at his feet. 

“Uh, thanks, BeeBee,” said Finn. “How are-- Ow!” and he half-collapsed into Poe as BB-8 ran over his foot in his haste to roll to the boarding ramp of the _Falcon_. 

< _Friend-Rey!! Friend Rey!!_ > the droid squealed at fever pitch.

“Hi, BeeBee-Ate!” Rey said, descending the ramp with an enormous smile on her face. “You look so shiny!”

< _Master-Poe shined me for your visit_ ,> BB-8 burbled, twirling a little circle to let the sunlight glint off his freshly-polished dome.

“Oh, I’m sure it was just for me,” Rey teased, sending a smile over at Poe and Finn. “Hm, should we give you two a few more minutes?”

“Maybe,” said Poe, making no effort to disengage his arms from around Finn’s waist. 

Finn obediently drew slightly back. He couldn’t stop himself from pointedly looking down at Poe’s mouth, but he also couldn’t bring himself to close the distance. If he kissed him now, he probably wouldn’t be able to stop, and that would get awkward quickly - especially since the physical part of whatever relationship they were building was still very new and little tested. Finn wasn’t entirely certain how to proceed. 

He saw that Poe’s hair was a little longer than before, the barest hint of a curl at the base of his neck, and his face was smooth enough that Finn could tell he’d shaved that morning (though Poe's stubble grew so fast there was always a shadow on his cheeks by the early afternoon). He still had faintly dark circles under his eyes, and the warm glow of his Yavin tan had already faded, but overall he seemed healthier (less sallow, less pinched, less twitchy) than he did before. “Hi,” Finn said again, vaguely became aware that he was grinning so wide his cheeks were hurting.

Poe smiled back at him, and then pressed the barest kiss to the side of his mouth as he slid a hand around Finn’s lower back, a warm lock to keep him close. “Hi.”

Chewie let out a roar so loud they both jumped (Finn felt sentients jumping from two landing pads away), and then Poe was swept out of his hands into a back-breaking hug. 

“Hi Chewie,” Poe was chuckling, trying to push the shaggy brown hair out of his nose. “It’s great to see you, too, pal. Rey?” he managed to extract himself from Chewie’s grip long enough to pull her into a rough, one-armed hug. “Kamparas must be nice, you all look great.”

Rey squeezed him tight. “You too! You look well! Are you flying yet?” 

As soon as she stepped back, Poe reclaimed Finn’s hand, loosely clasped, but anchored. “Cert test is Centaxday morning,” said Poe, swirling with another little surge of rust-colored nervousness. “So, keep your fingers crossed they don’t find some reason to cancel it. What are you guys doing here, anyway? Not that it isn’t great to see you, but you didn’t come all this way just to give Finn a ride, did you?” 

“No, no,” said Rey. “I have a meeting with some Republic leadership this afternoon. About the-” she gestured vaguely between herself and Finn. 

Poe’s eyebrows furrowed, and he glanced briefly at Finn. “The what?”

< _Friend-Rey! Do you have a mission? A mission on Ganthel? Because otherwise I must follow Master-Poe to the temporary quarters, and then I must power down for more than the standard charging period or hear the horrible sounds, Friend-Rey, they are HORRIBLE SOUNDS, so do you have a mission for-_ >

“Wow, BeeBee,” said Poe, his face flushing even as his expression remained impassive. “I know you’re always three rolls toward leaving me for Rey forever, but do you really-”

“What the hell did you tell him?” Finn cut in, looking between Poe’s slightly embarrassed expression and Chewie’s guttural guffaws. 

“Nothing,” said Poe, looking nonplussed between the droid and Rey. To her credit, she seemed to be trying very hard not to laugh.

< _-so may I join the mission? Please, a mission?_ > BB-8 was pleading now, and Rey’s carefully-held seriousness was clearly cracking.

Finally, she managed to say, “Sure, BeeBee-Ate, you can come with me today. We’ll send you back to Poe later. Much later,” she added, her eyes so full of mischief that Finn finally started to catch on to what kind of ‘horrible sounds’ the droid might have been referencing, and he felt his face start to flush. 

Poe still hadn’t looked away, radiating his usual outward calmness and confidence, but his cheeks and the tips of his ears were pink. “Well, I think that’s our cue to go,” said Poe, rubbing Finn gently on the small of his back. “Where’s your bag?”

“Oh, I forgot,” said Finn.

“Traitor,” he heard Poe muttering to BB-8 as he hurried away.

< _Horrible Sounds, Master-Poe, > _ BB-8 beeped loudly in return.

Finn found his rucksack under the _dejarik_ table, slung it over his shoulder, and hustled back out of the ship and down the gangplank to press himself against Poe’s shoulder again. 

“-and here I thought he talked about you all the time _before_ ,” Rey was saying, giving Finn another sparkling smile of barely-contained mischief.

“What?” Finn demanded, fidgeting a bit to edge himself still closer to Poe’s body. “I was gone two minutes, how are you already talking about me behind my back?”

“Ready to go?” Poe turned to him, ignoring both his question and Rey’s teasing grin as he leaned over to pick up a gray overnight bag tossed at the edge of the landing pad.

“Sure,” said Finn, still giving Rey a dark and suspicious look.

"But we haven't really talked at all!" said Rey with exaggerated friendliness. "Poe, you haven't told us anything about Jess or Karé, or whether C’ai was able to fix his R5 unit, or-"

"I'll write you a report," said Poe.

"-surely we should spent the next two hours in small-talk and chit-chat over a cup of tea, I know how much you both want to spend your time with me, after all this separation, and since my meeting was postponed _again_ -"

"Bye Rey," Finn said pointedly, feeling bold enough to tug a bit on the belt loop of Poe's pants.

Poe chuckled, letting himself be pulled away from the circle. “Okay, great seeing you! BeeBee-Ate has my comm signal, so we’ll check in later."

"Later?" Finn looked at him disapprovingly.

"Much later," Poe assured him, and Rey laughed again. "See ya,” he nodded and slid an arm back around Finn’s waist to guide him away from the spaceport.

"Have fun! Be safe!" she called after them.

“BYE REY." Finn gave her a last dark look of warning, then locked his eyes on Poe and immediately linked his own arm across the small of Poe’s back to rest lightly on his hip. 

After a few paces, Poe looked over, smiling at him with a very soft expression on his face. "Hi Finn."

Finn beamed. "Hi." 

***

They walked hand-in-hand through the crowded streets of Luashe in something close to silence, anticipation and excitement filling in the empty spaces. It seemed as though the entire city, not just the spaceport, was under construction: cranes and lifts were everywhere, walkways frequently blocked by huge piles of materials and droids and tarps and caution signs, the streets packed with speeders and hovercraft and pedestrians swerving into traffic to avoid the construction. Busy, noisy, crowded, and overwhelming.

As they neared the business district, the walkways widened to accommodate even more pedestrians and the construction shifted to beautification: new glass facades, sculptures and light installations, enormous conical planters full of bright orange flowers hanging from the streetlights. Finn could occasionally hear soothing music being piped over linked speakers above the buildings, presumably along with surveillance equipment. There was a higher security presence here, too; it seemed that fully a third of the sentients they were passing wore some form of Republic military uniform, and another third some sort of ceremonial or bureaucratic robe.

Poe led them away from the center of the business district over an old, pre-Republic stone pedestrian bridge crossing the little river that cut the city into two banks. The river was quiet, barely babbling, full of drifting green moss and tiny black fish. There were some spindly green willow trees and sweet-smelling chaparral at the edges of the river near the bridge, a similar herbaceous, woody, dry scent to Poe’s new soap, and some ornamental plum-leafed maples planted in even intervals along the esplanade. 

All in all, though, it was not a particularly pretty city. Poe seemed to have little excitement for it. He occasionally pointed out a secret-looking side street, and once mentioned a garden, but other than answering Finn’s questions, he didn’t offer much about the sights they passed. Finn still managed to find several interesting things to point out or ask about: street vendors with delicious-smelling food, a trio of musicians in an open plaza, eclectic shops flying color flags, and the plum-leaf trees starting to blossom with light peach-colored petals. Poe smiled at him every time.

The hotel Poe had chosen was a few short blocks from the river, in the middle of a fashionable-looking neighborhood of little shops, bars, and restaurants that had clearly already finished most of its New Republic refurbishing. Finn was a little surprised at the choice, given how he’d heretofore been inclined toward the scrubby dive bars with their inviting dark corners and cheap liquor, but then again, they’d done that plenty of platonic times on plenty of platonic missions during their time with the Resistance. Clearly, Poe wanted this visit to be different. 

Finn drifted around the hotel lobby while Poe checked in at the front desk. His eyes went wide at the shimmering embossed wallpaper that seemed to drift with flower petals across the walls, the same light-peach color as the plum-leaf blossoms, whenever the chandelier in the foyer bounced golden light at just the right angle. 

“Room Eight-Seven. Have a pleasant stay.” The hospitality droid jerkily deposited two door cards on the desk in front of Poe and executed a stiff little bow.

“Thanks,” said Poe as he slid the cards into his pocket and slung his gray bag over one shoulder. He retrieved Finn’s hand, interlacing their fingers, and led him up the spiral staircase in the lobby to the lift bays on the second floor.

“This is a nice place,” said Finn, still gawking at the furnishings and details, and feeling a little out of place. “I hope it wasn’t too expensi-- I mean, you didn’t have to go to so much trouble."

"What better time for a proper romantic gesture?" Poe smiled, then snaked his arm around Finn’s waist the moment the lift doors closed, pulling him close. The smell of his soap quickly filled the small space. _Maybe it isn’t just soap, maybe it’s some kind of...what’s that called, cologne?_ “Besides, I don’t really plan on leaving it much,” Poe said in a low voice. “So might as well splurge a little."

“Oh yeah?” Finn grinned, letting his rucksack slide off his shoulder to the floor and settling his hips against Poe. He looked down, quite intently, at his mouth again. “And what’re we going to do in a hotel room for four days?"

“Mm. Stuff.” Poe drifted his face closer, head tilted to adjust for noses, hovering with his lips just inches apart from Finn’s, waiting. He rubbed Finn’s chest with the palm of his hand, smoothing over the worn leather of his old gray vest.

“What kind of stuff?” Finn muttered with his eyes already half-closed, still refusing to close the gap between them. Waiting.

Then the lift doors opened, and Poe was slipping away and darting nimbly into the hallway. “You like Galactic Expansion, right?” he tossed over his shoulder.

Finn’s groan turned into a laugh. “I didn’t know you were such a tease, Dameron.”

“Oh, you knew damn well,” said Poe with a smirk, halting in front of Room 87 and fumbling in his pocket for the key card. The lock clicked green, and the door slid open.

Finn wandered through the threshold in a daze. “Um, what?” he laughed, looking around. “Are you serious?”

“It’s not that fancy,” said Poe, looking around the spacious room as he dropped his bag. 

Finn was inclined to disagree. The room was luxurious in its simplicity: shades of white, stone, and a faded ocean blue in the freshly painted walls, soft-looking linens, and numerous pillows on the large bed. There was a small square-backed white sofa and a low table directed toward a large-screen holoprojector, a little sink and cooler, and two enormous windows that Finn realized, after a moment’s inspection, were actually doors.

“Is this a balcony?” asked Finn. 

“Yup,” said Poe, opening the doors to let in the afternoon breeze. It was early spring in Luashe, so the air was chilly, but the dryness of the semi-arid climate and the warm sun made it a welcome refreshment. The balcony, furnished with two chairs and a small table, overlooked one of the willowy park-like areas of the riverbank and the brown, rocky mountains dusted at the top with snow that circled Luashe to the west. 

Finn chuckled again as he took in the view, surprised and bewildered. “Okay, you were right. This does kind of blow my mind.”

“You’ve seen fancier places than this,” said Poe, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed, watching him. "Like that party in Coronet City."

“Yeah, but I’ve never _stayed_ in one,” said Finn. “What’s that out there?”

“That’s the theater,” said Poe. “I’ve never been in, but it’s supposed to be nice.”

“And that?”

“Retired ship museum. That’s actually pretty cool, they have a Delta-7B interceptor from the Clone Wars in perfect condition. Wouldn’t let me sit in it, though. Why haven't you kissed me yet?”

Finn was smiling now, pointedly facing the view and refusing to look back. "Thought we had four days. You in some kind of hurry?"

"Me? Nah. You seemed a little antsy back at the spaceport, though."

"Yeah?" Finn turned around and braced his arms against the railing behind him. He saw Poe swallow carefully as Finn’s arms flexed in the pose, his eyes going a little dark and his jaw going a little slack. Finn tried to suppress a grin. "Maybe it was just sitting on the ship for so long."

"Hm, right, the ship," Poe nodded, clearly trying to sound casual. "And me being called a tease just now?"

"You know how much I love Galactic Expansion. Why would you tease me about having it when we both know you don't?" Okay, he was definitely grinning now.

Poe chuckled. "Wow, okay buddy. I thought the hotel, and the balcony, and the Imperial-sized bed might be a big enough display of plumage, but now I gotta go get a nerdy board game before I get a smooch?" He threw up a hand in an okay-you-win gesture, and rolled around the door frame back into the room. "Be back in an hour, I guess."

Finn laughed, and took a large step forward to reach for him. Poe lingered just enough to allow himself to be caught by the hand, but he made Finn work a little to tug him back out into the warm sun on the balcony, muttering "I mean, the hobby shop closes at 1700," as Finn wrapped a hand around his waist, swaying slightly to slot their legs together, drawing Poe's chin up with his index finger tucked gently under his jaw.

"You're so full of shit," Finn said fondly, still grinning at him.

"I think the right phrase is 'don't shit a shitter’," said Poe. "I've got way more years of practice at being a brat than you."

"True," Finn nodded. "I probably shouldn't reward you for it though."

"Oh buddy, I'll go get the damn board game," Poe threatened, and Finn laughed again and kissed him.

Poe responded immediately, sliding a hand behind Finn's neck to pull him down into a deep, long kiss, twisting their tongues in a way that made even Finn’s sturdy legs feel a little weak. He licked Finn’s lower lip gently as they drew back for air, drawing smiles from both of them, and then Finn barely let a breath pass before he dove into another wet kiss, stroking a hand down Poe’s back, slipping just under the back of his shirt to brush the skin, pulling him close. Just when Finn didn’t think the kisses could get any deeper, Poe pulled him closer and opened his mouth wider, pressed chest to knees, and began slowly shifting back toward the room. Then Poe paused and pulled back just enough to open his eyes, slowly, his lips still slightly parted.

"Hi." Finn was grinning again. 

“Hi,” said Poe. “Why are you still wearing a shirt?”

“Because you haven’t taken it off me yet.”

"So I have to do everything here? Did I mention that I also brought three bottles of wine, lube, and there's a swear-on-the-Force bathtub in the 'fresher?”

“Shut up, Poe,” Finn laughed and pulled him into another kiss, wrapping his arms tightly around his shoulders. Poe, grinning into the kisses, too, grabbed a fistful of Finn’s shirt and slowly, but pointedly, pushed him up against the side of the building, and Finn’s breath caught in his throat. Poe slid his hands down Finn’s chest, palm flat, both of them panting a little now from heating blood and the lack of air, then looked back up into Finn’s eyes, smiled again, and dropped to his knees.

“Wait, here?” Finn gasped as Poe unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. “Can’t people see us?”

“We’re eight stories up, who’s looking?” said Poe, inhaling deeply against his bare skin, pressing a little kiss to the base of Finn’s cock, and then another.

“But--but couldn’t they--Oh,” Finn let out as the warmth enveloped him, dropping his head back against the cold wall. And then, more strangled, “ _Oh--_ ”

“Missed you,” said Poe, gently stroking Finn's cock while he licked every bit of sensitive skin around the head. “Stars, I missed you.”

“You t-too-- _Oh_.” Finn ran a hand roughly through Poe’s hair, trying to find that one stray curl at the back of his neck. He saw a flicker of citrine happiness drift across the back of his eyelids, and a ripple of dusty, dark rose, and Finn’s eyes shot open. “Wait. Wait a second,” he reached down to Poe’s shoulders, gently pushing him back even as he made a little protesting sound. “Hang on.”

“What’s wrong?” Poe furrowed his eyebrows, still holding on to Finn’s hips. “Oh shit, I forgot to tap, didn’t I?”

“No, no. I don't care about that anymore.” Finn let out a ragged laugh, hurriedly tucking himself (with difficulty) back in his trousers. He swallowed slowly, and forced himself to stop stalling. He had been stalling all day, stalling for at least two weeks. If he didn't have this conversation now, he knew there'd be repercussions - that he’d feel like he was concealing something, being dishonest. “No, it’s just...I have to tell you something first. I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while now...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re front-loading the sexy stuff this time, people! Don’t worry, there’s a proper adventure on the way.


	2. Chapter 2

Poe felt frozen. His knees were starting to hurt, pressed down into the hard tile floor of the balcony, and he slowly let himself rest back on his heels. A cold breeze blew over them.

He had spent nearly an hour at the Luashe spaceport that morning, first walking long circles around the terminal, pausing occasionally to watch the cranes pull sheets of durasteel into the air and the blinding flashes of soldering droids, and then pacing back and forth at the edge of the landing pad, trying not to lurk or glare while the little Sullustan family said their extended goodbyes. And in that time, he repeated to himself, like a mantra, not to expect too much from this visit.  _ Just see what happens. We’ll just see what happens. _ Because until the moment Finn had leaped off the  _ Falcon _ ’s gangplank and practically jumped in his arms, he had no idea what kind of closeness to expect, and he did not want to assume too much.

Poe tried, he had really tried, not to comm Finn too often at first, still half-convinced that a little time and distance would reveal a change of heart. But by the end of the first week after Yavin, if he didn’t reach out by 2100, Finn would comm. By the end of the second week, they were routinely talking for an hour or more each night, laughing and joking and chatting like their best times on the  _ Falcon _ and the early months on Ajan Kloss, but with a new undercurrent of flirtiness and familiarity. By the third week, that flirtiness was devolving into outright innuendo and a kind of base-instinct longing, and despite his best efforts, in the absence of flying or leading missions or any other useful purpose, Poe was soon living for the seconds between when he answered the videocomm each night and when Finn’s face would light up like a firework once the signal transmitted back to him, and he saw his smile.

Even as Poe tried to temper down the rising happiness, steeling himself for the proverbial boot to drop, the next tragedy to strike, the inevitable heartbreak, it was hard not to begin to feel like this might work, might be  _ real _ after all. And now he had finally started to feel bold, an old vein of courage lighting up, remnants of the giddy confidence he'd felt the month before. Finn was here, finally. Finn had  _ chosen _ to be here, on this planet, in this room; that maybe he wasn't going to change his mind after all; that maybe, just maybe, he wanted Poe the way that Poe wanted him, if his sighs and smiles and the depth of his kisses and the tight heat of his erection rubbing against Poe's thigh weren't proof enough. 

It was hard not to feel a little resentful that it was probably about to come crashing down after all, at the moment when Poe finally allowed his vigilance to drop.  _ Just see what happens. We’ll just see what happens. _

“It’s not bad,” Finn said hurriedly, clearly sensing his anxiety. “At least, I hope you won’t think it’s bad. I should have told you earlier. I should have told you weeks ago, I just wanted to tell you in person. And then I was going to tell you first thing today, but...um...I got distracted.” He smiled a little shyly.

This didn’t relax Poe at all. He felt his shoulders stiffen into a guarded stance, and he shifted back even further, leaning lightly into a balcony chair, just out of the reach of Finn’s hands.  _ He’s still here, though. He still came here. If he wanted to break up with you, he wouldn’t have come all the way here. But what if- Stop. _ “Okay.”

“Can we go inside?”

“Sure.” Poe got up and adjusted his pants, certain parts of his body having not yet gotten the message that the mood had suddenly changed dramatically, and tried not to make a beeline straight for the wine he’d put into his overnight bag. He wasn’t sure where, exactly, to go for this conversation, but he drifted decidedly away from the large bed. 

Finn’s warm fingers brushing his own made him startle slightly, but he allowed Finn to hold his hand and guide him gently onto the couch. Poe still felt the need to build some protective space, though, so he broke the hold to sink back into the cushions on the opposite side. Finn took his boots off; Poe did the same. Then they sat in silence for a moment. 

“Everything okay, buddy?” Poe finally asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” said Finn, clearly considering what he was about to say. He took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “So...Rey’s training me after all. With the Force.”

“Oh,” said Poe. He sat with that statement for a minute. “As a Jedi?”

“Uh-huh.”

“So you’re her apprentice? Or her padawan, or whatever?”

“Yeah,” Finn nodded. “Technically. Yeah.”

Poe chewed on his lower lip for a little while. Of all the thoughts that were rushing through his suddenly crowded brain ( _ She’s going to take him back; He’s going to be so bad-ass; I thought Jedi weren’t allowed to have relationships; Could he Force-lift me? _ ), the one that quickly rose to prominence was the sad realization that this meant Finn would be living on Kamparas for the foreseeable future. Not that Poe was expecting Finn to move to Ganthel tomorrow (not that he hadn’t had at least one extremely vivid, definitely melodramatic, bored-at-his-desk daydream about that exact scenario), but he had hoped it would only be a brief separation, just at the beginning, just until--  _ Until what? Until you’re flying again, and you have something else to live for? Until you can convince Finn to let you love him forever?  _ Clearly, that wasn’t going to happen now. He had missed Finn so much. Now, it felt like he was already leaving.

Belatedly, Poe realized that Finn was looking at him with an increasingly worried expression as the silence stretched. “So you’re lifting rocks now, huh?” he finally smirked, trying to fall back on a casual, carefree tone.

“Not exactly,” said Finn. “Or, I mean...I didn’t so much lift the rocks as they...um, exploded.”

Poe’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. “Exploded?”

“Kind of. I was thinking about volcanoes? They were volcanic rocks,” Finn sounded sheepish. “It’s actually really frustrating. I can’t seem to do anything the way that Rey does it. It’s like my brain works differently. Remember how I told you I can feel things about people? Like I can sense things, through the Force? Where they are, or if something’s wrong, or sort of just how they’re feeling?”

“Uh-huh,” Poe nodded.

“Well, that’s apparently different, too. Like, the way I feel it is through seeing it? Like there’s colors everywhere now, all the time? And the colors all mean things. And it’s for more than just certain people now.”

Poe frowned, not entirely following. “It wasn’t like that before?”

“No, I had to really think about it before,” said Finn. “I think...you know, I actually think your Force tree helped with that. I was trying to make a pebble move, but instead I started seeing  _ your _ colors. And then I-”

“Mine?” The question was out of his mouth before it reached his brain. “Wait, are you doing it right now?”

Finn flushed, chagrined. “Um, kind of. I can’t really stop it that easily. I'm trying to get better and learn how to use it. How to control it, too, so it’s not just always...happening. But I can-- I mean, it’s-- I know that you’re…nervous. Or worried. Like you think something bad is going to happen? I’m sorry,” he said in another rush. “I should have told you earlier. I just thought I should tell you in person.”

It was a peculiar predicament to try to halt such intense thoughts and feelings around a person who was actively learning how to detect those things, and with whom he was also deeply, hopelessly in love. Poe had no illusions that he was being successful at all, but he tried to at least keep his voice in an even tone. “Are you-- Can you-- Is this like reading minds?”  _ Ah, and there’s the panic. Damn it. Stop. _

“No,” Finn said firmly. “No, I wouldn’t do that. I wouldn’t want to do that.”

“But you can?”  _ Stop. Stop. Stop panicking. Stop. You’re going to upset him. _

“Not, like, in words,” said Finn. “I can’t hear what you’re thinking.”

“But you could feel me being...worried?”

“Yeah, but I don’t know why. I mean, I can guess,” Finn gestured a bit toward him. “But all I have is what you feel.”

“Huh,” said Poe, trying to keep his face blank. “So when do you get a laser sword?”

Finn snorted. “Probably never? Rey let me try hers a little bit, just an exercise with a helmet that had a blast shield, and it was kind of pathetic. Not quite as pathetic as when Kylo Ren took me down in about five minutes, but close.”

“That wasn’t pathetic. I didn’t last five minutes against Ren. Want some wine?” He desperately, desperately needed a drink now.

“What?” Finn blinked.

Poe was already halfway across the room, pulling three dark glass bottles out of his bag. He slid one into the little cooler near the sink, put the other two on the counter, and started hunting in the cupboard for glasses and a corkscrew. “I got two red and one white, I can’t remember which you like better.”

He pulled the cork out of the wine with an easy pop. It was a dark, rich red, and Poe drank half a glass in one swallow. “Hey, that’s pretty good,” fruity and spicy and velvety all at the same time, and he refilled the glass for himself and another one for Finn.

Finn stood up to meet him, accepting the glass but lingering close and fidgeting with his own restless unease. “Does it-- I mean, is this--Is it okay?” he finally settled on, barely regarding the wine in his hand.

“Sure,” said Poe, again trying to keep his voice casual, even as it was just made clear to him that Finn knew exactly how not-casual he felt. He looped an arm around Finn’s waist and tilted up to kiss him, and it was the sweetness in Finn’s return kiss that finally made him relax a little. At least Finn wasn’t asking to leave. “I mean, never thought I’d be dating a Jedi, but sure. I’m glad the Temple’s working for you.”  _ Never thought I’d be dating a Stormtrooper, either, for that matter. _

“Working for me?” 

“You didn’t know what you wanted to do,” Poe shrugged, slipping his thumb just under Finn’s shirt to rub the soft skin above his hip bone. “Anyway, I told you, you just need training.”  _ Finn’s amazing. He’s amazing. He can do anything. I’m so kriffing useless- Stop. _

“Well, it’s still not a job,” said Finn. “It’s just a thing I’m doing.”

Poe gave him a little smile, then tilted his head. “Why didn’t you want to tell me?"

“I don’t know,” Finn shrugged. “I guess I was worried you wouldn’t...I don’t know.”

Poe didn’t press him further, just kissed him again, slowly. “I missed you.”

“Yeah?” Finn smiled a little.

“Yeah.” Poe pulled back enough to take another sip of wine, watching him intensely over the rim of his glass, holding that eye contact when he licked a stray drop off his upper lip.  _ Screw subtlety. I’ll take what I can get for now. _ “Do you like it?”

“What?” Finn was looking at his mouth.

Poe suppressed a smile. “The wine.”

“Oh.” Finn took a sip, and Poe watched him carefully: his lips, the hint of pink tongue at the edge of the glass, the swallow in his throat. “Yeah, I do. This is good.”

“Good,” said Poe, leaning in to lick the barest hint of wine off the stain of his lips. Then he kissed him again. “Any more confessions?”

“One time, on Starkiller, there was a maintenance glitch in the ‘fresher and I didn’t report it until  _ after _ my shower,” said Finn. He smiled into his wine, this time purposefully leaving a residual drop on his lips.

Poe obligingly licked it off. “How long was your shower?” He leaned in closer to kiss the side of Finn’s mouth.

“Sixteen minutes,” Finn whispered, shivering, and Poe had to bury his laugh in Finn’s shoulder.

“You and your rebellious heart,” he teased, slowly licking up the outer edge of Finn’s ear.

“Rebel scum, that’s me,” said Finn. 

“Cute rebel scum.” Poe pressed kisses along his neck from his jaw down to his shoulder, then leaned back again to drain the rest of the wine. He put the empty glass on the counter, and when he turned around Finn was holding out his own glass, also empty. Poe smiled, and put it next to the other one. “Can we have sex now? Or did you want to play pazaak for a while?”

“Shut up, Poe,” said Finn, pulling him into a rough kiss.

Poe grinned against his lips. “Maybe I did bring Galactic Expansion after all.” 

“Shut up, Poe.” His hands were moving now, tightening around his waist, drifting lower.

Poe moved his own hands down Finn’s back, playing at the waistband of his pants, slipping down to the soft swell of his ass. “Strip sabacc?” 

“No.” Finn’s tongue swirled around his. “Well…”

And then Poe was relieved of his shirt, and he threw Finn’s vest somewhere near the couch, and then Finn pulled off his own shirt, and Poe laughed a little, incredulous and elated, at those broad shoulders and powerful arms. “Oh man,” as he splayed his fingers wide across Finn’s perfect, such a kriffing perfect chest. 

“What?” 

“Nothing. You’re gorgeous.” 

“Shut up, Poe,” and Poe laughed again. 

Poe was gently guiding him back toward the bed now, kissing him free-handed so that he could unbutton his pants and Finn did the same, letting them slide over his hips when the back of his legs hit the mattress. The inelegant scuffling to remove the rest of his clothes, and then Finn pulled him down flush on top of him, chest to chest, pushing Poe's pants over his hips, kissing so deep and so wet, sliding his cock against Poe's as soon as they were both naked, a slow rocking at first, and then harder, arms tangled to touch each other, slicked together with pressure and movement and warmth. Poe knew he was moaning now, louder with every thrust into Finn’s hand, he'd never been able to keep quiet, how was Finn always so quiet? 

Poe came first. Hadn't meant to, had wanted to outlast Finn in a stupid egoistic fluff to the pride of an older man, but Finn had jerked his hips under him and twisted in just the right way, gently fluttering his tongue against Poe's, and Finn’s body was so  _ warm _ , and he came hard, moaning low and sweet. He forced himself conscious enough to keep stroking Finn, then kissing down his neck, intending to work his way back onto his knees and suck him off, when Finn shuddered and came in his hands.

Finn rolled them onto their sides after he released, wrapping Poe close with the sweat and the semen sticking between their stomachs, kissing him for what felt like an hour and could have been anywhere between a couple minutes or an age. "Hi,” Finn said, finally, nuzzling into his cheek.

"Hey, you," said Poe softly, eyes closed and focusing each breath on the scent of Finn's sweat and cum and musk. “You’re here."

“Mm-hmm.” Finn was humming something light and tuneless in his ear, rubbing his back and pressing gentle kisses to his temple.

“I missed you,” said Poe, and even though it was early, it was barely mid-afternoon and Finn had just arrived, he felt himself falling asleep in the warmth and the pleasure and the safety of Finn's arms. He didn’t fight it.

***

Poe fluttered his eyes open briefly, saw that Finn was sitting up against the headboard, datapad in his lap, and then closed them again. After a moment, he inhaled deeply and stretched his arm out to tuck it around the top of Finn’s knee, tawny-beige wrapped around dark umber. Finn’s skin looked even darker against the stark white of the sheets. “Sorry,” Poe mumbled.

“For what?” Finn looked down at him.

“Falling asleep on you.” Poe adjusted closer, tucking his face into Finn’s thigh. “How long was I out?”

“Not long, maybe a half hour?” Finn reached out to brush gently through Poe's hair, and Poe rewarded him with a warm and sleepy smile.  _ Happy. Happy, happy, happy. _

“Mm, power nap.” Poe pressed a light kiss into the side of Finn's leg. He breathed evenly for a little while, nuzzling his nose against Finn's skin every so often, until Finn settled back against the headboard again. He had clearly taken a shower during Poe's nap, as that perfect chest was scrubbed clean and his skin smelled like Ithorian roses. "Watcha doin'?"

"Just reading," said Finn.

"Blaster manuals? Comic books? Jedi history?"

"No," said Finn with a shake of his head. "None of those things." 

"How'd you get this scar?" He traced it, short and white, across the top of Finn's left kneecap.

"Oh, nothing. Just a training accident." Poe looked up at him, waiting expectantly, and Finn shrugged and continued, "Terrain practice, we were running obstacle drills planet-side on a steep slope, and I went down on a sharp rock. No big deal."

Poe shifted up higher on the bed to fold himself into Finn's chest, burrowing under his shoulder and wrapping an arm around his waist. "Was it just all drills, all the time?"

"Pretty much. Terrain drills, and sparring drills, and shooting drills, and then the simulations." Finn reached aside to put his datapad on the whitewashed bedside table. “Lots of simulations.”

"Sounds boring."

“Yeah, pretty much. Then you do it all again in 45 pounds of armor with your vision reduced by 15%."

"It's a romance novel, isn't it?"

Finn laughed. "You got me."

"Bet it's one of those really sappy ones, where they don't even kiss until the last page."

"Oh, and you know all about those, huh?"

Poe chuckled. "My stepmom used to read them."

"Sure, sure. Your  _ stepmom. _ "

"I may have read one or two. When I was really, really bored."

"Uh-huh."

Poe poked his side, shifting them both as Finn laughed again, taking the opportunity to press his cheek against Finn’s skin, pulling him closer, smoothing his hand across Finn's chest. “Want some more wine?”

“Maybe in a little bit.”

They snuggled in quiet for a while, watching the muted sunset setting behind the mountains, pale peach and dusky violet, out the open balcony doors. The breeze drifting in was cooler now, chill with the incoming night air, but Poe didn't feel like moving enough to get up and close the door. He adjusted the sheet so it drifted over them both (Finn helped tuck it in place), and watched Finn’s chest rise and fall with his breath. 

"Can I ask you something?" Finn asked suddenly.

“Anything,” said Poe, as he always tried to do.

“This,” said Finn, reaching over to lightly touch the chain around Poe’s neck and, after a brief hesitation, pulled the little silver ring from where it was pressed between them. “You always wear this. I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to ask, before, but...” 

Poe didn't answer right away. “Yeah. It was my mother’s.”

“Oh,” said Finn, looking down at him with surprise. “I thought it was a wedding ring.”

“It is,” said Poe. “It was hers.”

“Oh,” Finn said again. “I thought...I thought it was yours.”

“Mine?” Poe raised an eyebrow.

“I thought it meant you were married at some point,” Finn shrugged a little. “I just wondered who she was. Or he was.”

“No, I’ve never been married,” said Poe, wishing again for more wine. Almost instinctively, he started fiddling with the ring on the chain. “She gave it to me right before she died.”

“Why?" asked Finn. "I mean, why would she give it to you and not your dad?”

Poe shrugged. “I think she just wanted me to have something to remember her. She said something about giving it to my wife someday, but she didn’t know about...me. I didn’t even know then, really, I was too young. So it's-- it’s just nice having something of hers.” 

“Yeah, I bet,” said Finn. He gently brushed his hand over Poe’s, not enough to stop his fiddling, but enough to calm it. “That’s good. I’m glad you have it.”

“Me too. I didn’t really know her for very long, you know,” said Poe, almost without realizing he was speaking.

“What do you mean?”

“They were in the Rebellion,” said Poe, shrugging a little. “I lived with my grandfather. They’d come to visit once in a while. Probably more often than I remember, but still, they weren’t around very much. They finally came back to Yavin for good when I turned 6.”

“When you moved into your house,” said Finn.

Finn’s memory was so excellent, Poe didn’t know why it still surprised him. “Right, yeah,” he nodded, relishing the softness of Finn’s chest against his cheek. “And then she died. So I got two years, really. That’s it. And the first year was, you know, constantly acting out and being a brat because I was convinced they’d leave again. And then halfway through the second year, she got sick."

Finn didn’t really respond to that, just gently rubbed at his upper arm.

“I’m sorry,” Poe said suddenly, feeling selfish and foolish. “That was stupid. I shouldn’t be-- I mean, shit, you never even knew your parents, and here I am whining about-”

“Don’t do that. It’s different,” said Finn, rubbing his arm some more. “I like hearing about your family.”

“Do you remember yours, at all?” It was the question Poe had never been sure that he could ask, before, and he bit down on his lip while he waited through Finn’s quiet consideration.

“No,” Finn said eventually. “I was too little when they took me, and there was too much other stuff.” And then, after another pause, “Can I see it?”

After a moment, Poe realized that Finn meant the ring. “Sure,” he said, and then, “Wait, hang on,” and he sat up, with Finn shifting aside, and unclipped the necklace to slide the ring off the chain. He dropped it in the palm of Finn’s hand. 

Finn examined it carefully, the smooth silver, shining a little in the yellow bedside light. “What’s that on the inside?”

“It’s Yavini.” Poe recited the quote in that flowing, rolling language, hoping he’d gotten the ulsh sound correct. He used to be fluent, when he lived with his grandfather, but most of that knowledge had faded over the many years away; he could still understand it well enough, but speaking was difficult. “In Basic, it’s  _ For you always, my heart. _ Or something like that.”

“That’s pretty,” said Finn, handing him back the ring. 

Poe dropped it back on his necklace, and replaced it around his neck. Then he sank back down to Finn’s chest, and smirked a little. “What made you think someone’d be stupid enough to marry me?”

Finn shrugged. “You said something about boyfriends. Last time.”

“Oh, you want to talk about old boyfriends now, huh?” Poe teased, rubbing Finn’s bare legs with his toes. 

“I mean, only if you want to tell me,” said Finn, sounding both shy and immensely curious. 

“What do you want to know? You can ask me anything, you know that,” said Poe. “I may drink the rest of that bottle, but…”

Finn chuckled, and then tightened his grip around Poe’s shoulders again. “Okay. Tell me about the last person you did...this...with.”

“Had sex with?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure you want to know?”

“Should I not?”

“No, you should, it’s just…” Poe found himself chewing on his lower lip again. “Well, it was the night before I left for Yavin.”

“Oh,” said Finn in a flat voice. “I didn’t know you were dating someone when we-”

Poe shook his head and squeezed around Finn’s waist. “No, he was nobody. Just a one-night stand.”

“That’s when you...um...sleep with someone for just that night, right?”

“Right. It’s kind of implied to be a stranger, but it doesn’t have to be.”

“Was this one a stranger?”

“Yup.”

“So you didn’t know him at all?”

“Nope. Don’t even remember his name. I’m sure he told me, I just don’t remember.”

“Was he cute?” It was Finn’s teasing voice, but forced.

“I don’t really remember. That didn’t matter. I was just lonely. And I didn't want to do anything stupid when I saw you again, and I thought maybe if I went out and...” Poe swallowed carefully, trying to find a way to avoid finishing the sentence. “I guess you should probably know that I was sleeping around a lot, after I left the Resistance.”

"Oh," Finn said again. "I guess that's not really surprising."

"Why? You calling me a slut?" Poe tried to sound playful, although he was flushing with anxiety again.

"No, I didn't say that,” Finn’s voice was smiling. "But you're...um...handsome, and...confident, and-"

"Go on?" Poe encouraged.

Finn didn't take the bait. "And if you weren't flying, or writing reports, or training recruits, or fixing X-wings, or just trying to be a good General all the time…" He trailed off. 

“Yeah,” said Poe. He felt a small wave of something like relief wash over him, that it seemed like Finn might understand how much of a void he was trying to fill with somewhat self-destructive behaviors. He laced his fingers in the hand Finn draped loosely across his stomach. “Yeah, that. For the record, though, if it-- if it matters to you, there was no one between the day I met you and when I left.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh.” It certainly mattered to Poe. It made him feel both better and worse, and a little more frustrated by wasted time and squandered choices.  _ Stop. He’s here, now. _

“Why?” 

“Well, I don’t know if you were paying attention, but we were pretty busy for a while there. Not a whole lot of time to sleep around when you barely have time to  _ sleep _ . And one big rule of leadership is you don’t sleep with your subordinates, and if you keep getting higher on the chain, the dating pool starts to get pretty small…”  _ And then the pool itself was a lot smaller, for a while _ , thinking about their reduced numbers after Crait.

Finn nodded. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.” 

“But the real reason is that I was in love with you.” Poe rubbed his thumb over the back of Finn’s hand. “And I didn't want anyone else.”

“Oh,” said Finn. Poe hadn’t said that out loud since Yavin, and he felt his heart leap into his throat with worry, waiting for rejection, but Finn just rested his cheek on the top of Poe’s head. “But then you left.”

“Right. Figured if we were going to happen, it would have by then,” he said.

“Yeah, do you ever get tired of being wrong all the time?" said Finn.

Poe laughed, a real laugh that time, and kissed his chest. “What about you?”

“Me?”

“Yeah. Tell me.”

“I haven’t-- it’s-- um,” Finn stammered, and then managed, “My last anything was a few nights before we met.”

“Really?” Poe smiled. “Not Rose? Or Connix?”

“Connix!?” Finn sounded scandalized.

“You two were alone in the jungle for a long time there, buddy,” and chuckled when he felt Finn vigorously shaking his head. “Okay, not Rose or Connix. Timo from Artillery? I bet he offered.”

“Who?”

“Never mind,” said Poe, still smiling to himself. “Tell me about it.”

“There’s not much to tell,” said Finn. “I was still taking the inhibitors, so I wasn’t really-”

“The what?”

“The inhibitors,” Finn repeated. Then he sighed. “We had a lot of daily meds: vitamins, stims, mood stabilizers, the Force only knows what they put in there. Five to ten pills a day. At least one of them was an inhibitor, you know, for...desire.”

Poe nodded against the top of his head. “That makes sense. Can’t have baby Stormtroopers running around.”

“Oh no, there wouldn’t be," said Finn. "We were all sterilized.”

“What?” Poe sat straight up, staring at him in alarm. “You what?”

“Um, we were all sterilized?” Finn repeated himself, brows furrowing at Poe’s reaction. “It’s not a big deal. They did the men before we shipped up to the Star Destroyers, and then the women did an extra year of training on base, since their procedure was more invasive and they had better success rates if they were a little older.” And then, looking confused, “I-- Is that-- I mean, it’s not like I was planning to have kids, Poe. It’s not a big deal.”

“Yeah, but you can’t just take someone’s--” Poe hadn’t realized until that moment that his jaw clenched. He hadn’t felt this much anger in quite some time; after a moment, he realized he was  _ furious _ , and clearly Finn knew it. He wasn’t entirely sure why he was so angry, but he tried to push it away. “Sorry. If it doesn’t bother you, I guess-- I mean, what I think doesn’t matter. Sorry.”

Finn shrugged again. “It’s long done. I’ve never really thought very much about it.” 

Poe was quiet for several seconds, then finally let out the breath he’d been holding and settled back down on Finn’s chest, “So the inhibitors?”

“Yeah,” Finn nodded, as though the interlude hadn't happened. “Some people palmed them. They made everything the same size and shape and color, so you couldn’t really tell what was what, but some people swore they knew. I always took them all. It was just easier.”

“So all that Stormtrooper sex was…?”

Finn chuckled. “It wasn’t ‘all that,’ come on. Once in a while, someone would brave the sweeps.”

“What were the sweeps?"

"Oh, camera check at timed but irregular intervals, and visual check every thirty minutes by night patrol."

"So you had to be quick."

"Yeah. I mean, not me," Finn said hastily. "I didn't-- I mean, everyone’s different. Most people took the inhibitors. Some people took them, and it didn’t really...inhibit. But they pretty much worked on me, so I wasn’t exactly...um...propositioning anyone.”

“Just letting them come to you?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“And this one came to you?”

“Yeah.”

“Boy or girl?”

“Boy.”

“Did you like him?”

“No. But I didn’t hate him.” 

"Did you--did you want what he was offering you?"

Finn shrugged. "Not really, but it was okay. I didn't want anything, then. Except maybe not to die. I didn't know you could want anything else." Poe felt his jaw clenching again, and almost in time with his own thoughts, Finn said, "We don't have to talk about this, if it upsets you."

"What? No, I'm not upset, I’m just-" Poe stopped himself. "You're doing it again, aren't you?"

"Sorry," said Finn, clutching him a little tighter.

Poe took a deep breath and let it out slowly, though it didn't seem to help his tensed muscles.

"You don't really need the Force to know when you're angry, Poe," Finn said quietly.

Poe forced himself to relax more this time. "I'm not angry. Well, I am, but not at you. Never at you, Finn. It's just-- fuck the First Order." He squeezed the hand locked at Finn’s chest again. "Wish I could shoot them all over again."

"I know," said Finn. 

Poe let out a final sigh, and brightened his tone back to something playful. "So how long did it take those inhibitor things to wear off?"

Finn chuckled, warming a little. "Not that long."

"Yeah? About when you saw me flying over Takodana?" Poe teased, sliding his hand from Finn's waist to squeeze his ass.

"I didn't know that was you," said Finn, but he was grinning.

"Maybe it was when you saw me on the tarmac and thought, my stars, that's the most strikingly handsome man I've ever seen-"

"Oh yeah," Finn laughed, folding into him. "I was absolutely not thinking about whether you were a ghost or a clone or a figment of my imagination…"

"-yessir, that's a damn fine looking man, and a pilot you say! Why, a pilot who can fly  _ anything _ ?" Poe continued his folksy self-aggrandizing as though Finn hadn’t interjected.

"This is all just to get me to compliment you, right?"

“I mean, yeah,” said Poe, sliding light fingertips along Finn’s hips. “For someone with my looks and talent, I’m shockingly insecure.”

“And yet, still so arrogant,” said Finn.

“Well, can you blame me, with this face and this talent? I was a General, sir.”

“You can’t-” Finn started, laughing, but was interrupted by the loud beeping of a commlink on the other side of the room.   
  



	3. Chapter 3

The comm was still beeping.

“Ignore it,” said Poe, kissing Finn’s chest again and stroking a light hand up and down his side, just on the edge of tickling. Finn tried not to wriggle away. 

The comm beeped once more, then went still. “So did you-” Poe started again, but so did the comm. It kept beeping, continually, for a full minute, then finally stopped. They waited, for a breath, and then it started again.

“Ughh,” Poe finally groaned, sliding out of the bed to pad naked across the floor, shutting the door to the balcony on his way to the gray bag on the table in front of the sofa. Finn felt his stomach twisting a little as he watched him move, those lean muscles, that lithe frame, but he didn’t stop watching. Poe dug into the pockets until he found the offensive beeping commlink. “Dameron,” he said, all business and curtness.

_ “POE! _ ” Jessika Pava screamed at the top of her lungs.

“Kriff, Pava, what?” Poe stuck a finger in his ear.

“ _ WHERE ARE YOU, YOU PROMISED! _ ”

“Are you drunk already?” Poe shook his head. “How is that possible?”

“ _ YOU PROMISED YOU PROMISED _ -”

“-I said we’d  _ consider _ it, Pava. Come on, Finn just got here, and you know how I’ve been looking forward to this-”

“ _ YOU CAN EAT FINN’S ASS LATER COME ON WE MISS HIM! _ ”

“Or I can do it now, and not have to put clothes on,” Poe countered matter-of-factly, not at all concerned about the fact that a volcano of steam and lava and heat had just erupted over Finn’s face.

“ _ DRINK NOW FUCK LATER! _ ”

“And again I’ll point out that I can do both of those things right now, without having to get dressed!”

“ _ BRING FINN BRING FINN REY IS HERE WE MISS HIM! You can stay there if you want, we don’t give a shit about you _ ,” Pava finally brought her voice back to a normal volume, laughing hysterically. “ _ But FINN! HEY FINN COME OUT AND PARTY WE MISS YOU! _ ”

“What the heck is going on?” Finn finally asked, leaning half out of bed.

Poe rolled his eyes. “Resistance party.”

“ _ RESISTANCE PARTY! RESISTANCE PARTY! _ ” someone else was chanting along with Pava now, but Finn couldn’t recognize the voice. New voices joined. “ _ FINN! FINN! FINN! _ ” and an unmistakable Shyriiwook roar.

“Hi Jess,” Finn said, crossing toward the comm link and standing awkwardly near Poe’s shoulder, trying not to melt. “Um, so I’m picking up something about a party?”

Poe gave him a petulant, glowering look. “Do  _ you _ really want to get dressed right now?”

“Not really, but-”

“ _ FINN COME ON WE MISS YOU! POE YOU HAVE TO SHARE! _ ” 

“ _ Yeah, Finn, grab your boy and come over. You guys can’t go at it all night, you’ll strain something. _ ”

“Um, hi Karé,” said Finn as he recognized the new voice on the comm.

“ _ Hi Finn. Hi Poe. Sorry about all this _ ,” Rey’s soothing voice elbowed in. “ _ But Poe, BeeBee-Ate was asking about you, did you want me to keep him tonight? I think he was under the impression he’d be coming back from the party with you… _ ”

Poe groaned again, loudly, into the comm link. “I hate all of you.”

“ _ PARTY NOW FUCK LATER- _ ”

“Maybe we should go for just, like, an hour,” Finn suggested before his face melted off. Despite the embarrassment, he was a little excited by the prospect of seeing old friends. 

Poe regarded him carefully, then sighed. “Fine. Fine, we’ll come for an hour.”

“ _ YAAAAAAAY _ -”

Karé cut in again. “ _ You do have to get dressed, though, Poe. No one wants to see your ass. _ ”

“Oh, I can think of someone who might,” said Poe, and that’s when Finn reached for the comm. Poe jerked it away from his grasp, smirking.

“Okay, see you all in a few, bye now!” Finn tossed at the comm, again trying to grab it out of Poe’s hand.

“ _RESISTANCE PARTY RESISTANCE PAR_ -” the signal cut off abruptly as Poe snapped off the comm, laughing, and still keeping it away from Finn.

Finn narrowed his eyes and grinned. “Oh, you want to play like that, huh?”

“I really do,” Poe’s eyes sparkled. 

The comm went behind his back, Finn wrapping his arms around to reach for it; hand-switching, quick touching, Poe laughing harder as he held it out wide and then threw it to his other hand ( _ pilot reflexes, damn it _ ), and then lifted it high overhead, and Finn upped the ante by tickling his armpit and Poe  _ squeaked _ , and oh now it was on, now Finn had him, wrestling him into a rough embrace and tickling every sensitive place he could find: his armpits, his waist, under his neck, then back into his armpits, as Poe laughed and tried to find defensive positions, but he was nowhere near as strong as Finn, Finn broke through each grip far too easily, and then Poe was running across the room, and Finn was after him, tackling him back to the bed and tickling him mercilessly as he squirmed and giggled, Force he was actually  _ giggling _ , until Finn had both of Poe’s hands braced over his head, locked at the wrists by a strong grip, towering over him in a straddle, and they were both breathing heavy and flushed and Poe was grinning, and Finn was grinning, and then Poe was kissing him, and rolling his pelvis up into Finn’s cock, and breathing out, “Fuck me.”

Finn pulled back, just enough to look at him. Hesitating. Intrigued. Getting hard again.

Poe rolled up a second time, slower, and Finn let out a small groan, closing his eyes without meaning to, it just felt so damn  _ good. _

“Fuck me,” Poe repeated, playfully. “Then we can go to the party.” 

Finn gave himself a few moments to consider this, not really sure if he should confess that he’d only done that once, and it was quite a while ago. He bent down for a few soft kisses while he made up his mind, lacing their fingers together, but Poe seemed to have taken it as a confirmation or an opportunity to make his case: circling his tongue around Finn's, carefully but pointedly grinding up into him with his hips, kissing him deeply, biting his lower lip just to make him grunt, nipping and sucking just under his jaw, all with that playful, teasing smile. Then Poe slithered a hand out of Finn's grip and reached down between them to stroke Finn's cock. “What do you think?”

“Okay," Finn said immediately, half to keep himself from moaning at the touch.

“Yeah? You sure?" 

“Yeah, okay.” Finn found himself smiling through the nervousness, leaning down to kiss him again, thrusting gently, on instinct, into his hand. “Do you-- I probably should-”

“Lube's in my bag, I'll get it," said Poe, "But first I wanna taste you again." He licked into Finn's mouth, making another little groan in the back of his throat as their tongues met. Then he snaked his other hand out of Finn’s grip and shoved himself down, under Finn’s hips, gripping his ass to push him forward, just mouthing at the head at first, then working his tongue around and under, and then, “Your dick is a goddamn work of art,” and he started to suck. Finn braced himself on the headboard, trying to control the jerking of his hips, trying (and failing) not to close his eyes. 

“Poe,” he warned, breathing heavily and finding it increasingly more difficult to keep himself from thrusting too deep into Poe’s throat, and Poe pulled back, slowly, licking the underside of Finn’s cock as he went. 

“Don’t go anywhere,” Poe grinned as Finn climbed off of him shakily and Poe dashed to his overnight bag. Unlike the comm, he apparently knew exactly where he’d stored it because within seconds Poe was climbing back into bed on his hands and knees, little bottle gripped in his teeth and a grin on his face. He dropped the bottle into Finn’s lap and kissed him, soft at first, then deeper, and murmured against his lips, “You ready?”

“Um,” said Finn. His cock twitched, and he felt suddenly paralyzed with lust and uncertainty and desire and nervousness, all at the same time. “Yeah. Just...you know, I told you how I haven’t really...umm…recently, and-”

“Finn.” Poe leaned in to kiss him with that same pattern of sweet, to exploring tongues, to wet, and deep, and hungry. 

“Yeah?” Finn managed to breathe out, heat rising on their skin, limbs tangling together.

“Mm. Finn,” he repeated, a statement, not a question, gently guiding them both back to the bed. Poe put a dab of lube on his fingertips and reached down to touch himself without breaking the kiss. After a few more kisses, Finn pulled back to watch him, eyes darting between the growing desire on Poe’s face and the way his fingers were circling and teasing his rim, and then he was taking the bottle out of Poe’s hand and slicking up his own cock once, twice, possibly harder than he’d ever been in his life, even with an orgasm just a few hours before, and Poe was adding more lube to both of them, and then another pause for navigating positions, Poe murmuring suggestions and encouragements in his ear, and then he said, “Kriff, I've wanted this for so long,” voice low and husky, and the last of Finn’s nervousness melted away.

He pulled back to shift Poe’s hips up, tucking his arms under Poe’s knees. “Okay?” he tested, lightly rubbing the head of his cock against the puckered rim of Poe’s hole, smooth and slick.

“Perfect. You’re perfect, Finn,” Poe repeated, shifting him again slightly, stroking the back of Finn’s thigh, and then slowly, gently, Finn entered in incremental pushes as Poe expanded and the lube slicked him further. They were breathing almost in unison, drawing Finn deeper on the exhale and hitching with another groan at the crest of the inhale, and when he fully bottomed out, Finn let out something surprised and wondrous, it was so  _ tight _ and  _ warm _ , and Poe was sighing happily, opening his eyes long enough to smile at him, and then Finn slowly started to thrust, and Poe started to moan.

Without realizing it, without meaning to, concentrating as hard as he was to stay centered, sweat building on his forehead, watching Poe’s face as it blissed and he gasped, groaning lower as he pushed harder, Finn saw the orgasm developing at the base of Poe’s stomach, dark sunset-orange tipped with bright yellow. “This is okay?” he asked, and his voice sounded ragged and parched.

“So good, buddy,” Poe panted, eyes closed, rolling his hips down, “Don’t stop, you feel so fucking good.” 

“Good,” said Finn, and he was so busy watching the flames build and the pleasure radiate across their bodies, the fire stoked by the sounds Poe was making, each moan sending him deeper, that his own orgasm took him entirely by surprise. “OH--”

“Oh, fuck yeah, Finn,” Poe groaned, tensing as Finn pulsed inside him. And once Finn had pulled out, he rapidly palmed his own cock and came with a relieved, slightly-pained gasp.

Finn kept his eyes glued to the little dabs of cum and lube on Poe’s stomach and between his thighs, watching intensely, still breathing heavily. “That was okay?” he managed, even though he felt extremely short on air.

Poe chuckled a little, wrapping his arms around Finn to pull him down on his chest, cradling his lower body between his legs, and stroking his hair until Finn raised up for a kiss. “It was great. Thank you.” Poe kissed his forehead, then the tip of his nose, then traced around Finn’s lips with his fingertips and kissed him softly, on the mouth.

“Want me to-- I don’t know if I’m too heavy,” Finn stammered, trying to shift.

“Are you kidding? I’m never letting you move from this spot.” Poe gave him his toothy-smile, and a wave of what was unmistakably joy pulsed out like a stun shot when their eyes met. “I’m so happy. Are you? Was that fun for you? I didn't mean to pressure you.”

Finn smiled back, grinning really. “Yeah, it was--” Then he laughed, and collapsed back down on Poe’s chest. “Yeah, that was...yeah.”

"Good. I want you to feel good." 

“It did. I mean, I do. You? I-- I’ll get better at it.”

Poe started laughing again.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Poe kept chuckling, stroking his hair. “You’re just...Man. Oh, man. I definitely do not deserve this.”

“Maybe it’s for me, then,” said Finn, sounding muffled with his lips pressed into Poe’s skin, and there was glowing orange, and flickering red, and cool blue, like being pressed against a hot coal.

They lay tangled together for a few moments, warm bodies and soft kisses, until Poe commented, “I am definitely going to need a shower,” and Finn added, “I’m hungry,” and there was another beep at the commlink, and they rolled off the bed to get ready.

***

Poe held his hand tightly, leading him up the stairs of a two-story, nondescript apartment building on the far eastern edge of town, cracking white plaster over pre-Republic clay bricks. It had rounded edges, curved windows, and rusting iron railings over the glass that hinted at a rough neighborhood, but it was noticeably cooler under the eaves of the central patio, even as the day’s heat radiated off the tile flooring into the cold night air.

Finn could hear the music from the courtyard, the low thumping of the bass and the faint melodies drifting out the open windows with the sounds of talking and laughter. Warm and inviting sounds, but he was a little apprehensive to think of being surrounded by old friends and comrades after so many weeks on his own or in the calm serenity of Rey’s barely-inhabited Temple (especially with the realization that those old friends were about to see him hand-in-hand with Poe Dameron). He hoped the teasing wouldn’t be too merciless...Poe took that kind of thing in stride, the constant exchange of banter and insults and innuendos as the pilots blew off steam, but Finn had always known he was a little too serious to ever be truly comfortable with it.

Poe had changed into a pair of slim-cut dark canvas pants, an off-white shirt, and his old brown leather jacket with the Rebel phoenix embossed into the left shoulder. Finn, not realizing that heavy socializing would be on the agenda for this visit, had put back on the same brown trousers, greige shirt (that might have once been Poe’s, stretched and worn enough to fit his shoulders), and gray vest he had been wearing when he arrived earlier that day. 

Finn was led to an apartment at the upper eastern corner of the complex, where the noise increased exponentially. Poe was already grinning as he led Finn to the doorway, still clasping his hand tight, and then Finn was nearly blown back down the stairs at the roar greeting him when the door slid open and he stepped into the apartment.

Jessika Pava pushed her way to the front of the milling guests, her long black hair shining like a dark river down her back, and raised her glass high overhead. "IT'S GENERAL FINN!"

"FINN!" ("The General!") bellowed the small crowd, raising glasses, and Finn was shocked at how many faces he recognized: in addition to the AWOL pilots he knew, there were at least three other, very young pilots, and several techs, mechanics, and operations managers. Out of the approximately 25 to 30 people at the party, he knew at least half by name, and visibly recognized the faces of half a dozen others. He hadn’t realized so many Resistance fighters had joined or rejoined the Republic military after Exegol.

"AND FINN'S BOYFRIEND!" Jess shouted.

A far-less unanimous cry of "Boyfriend!" and "The Other General!" and "Poe!" chorused out, along with a few whistles. Poe was grinning like a maniac and took a small bow.

Then Jess was hugging Finn with one arm, and Karé was shoving full shot glasses into their hands (poor Karé, whose smile still didn’t reach her eyes, who still wore her wedding ring, whose white-blond hair was scruffy and hung in her eyes, desperately in need of a trim).

"Catch up, losers!" Jess laughed, and then corrected herself, "Not you, Finn, you're great. It's this moron," and she kissed Poe on the cheek. "Cheerier now that you're all fucked out, you dingus?"

"I could have come at least once more tonight, maybe twice, if you hadn't dragged us out here," said Poe, looking delighted at the crowd of smiling, dancing faces and throwing the shot down his throat.

"Night's still young!" Jess pointed out. "Though you're not "

"Just don't fuck in my bed," said Karé, giving Finn a tight hug, too.

"Or mine," Jess added, then turned to Finn. "Drink up, General!" 

Finn felt giddy and overwhelmed; embarrassed by the casual sex jokes, as expected, but also a little pleased to have Poe so easily recognized as  _ his _ . He hadn’t exactly been worried about their approval, but it was nice to see how readily it was given. Then it occurred to him that Jess and Karé probably knew how Poe had felt about him, all this time, and wondered how long they had known, and whether Poe had told them or had they guessed (like "everyone in the Resistance with visual capacity," according to Rey). "How are you guys? This is your place? It's great!"

"It's a dump, and the landlord won't fix the heat until it gets above freezing again, but it's four walls, our own ‘fresher, and no klaxon, so we make do," said Jess with a shrug.

"I mean, this is all yours?" said Finn, looking around. It was hard to see the furniture with the number of bodies milling around and the overhead lighting turned off, only little multi-colored bulbs strung across the ceiling, but it seemed cozy and comfortable, and certainly more living space than he'd ever seen allocated to only two people. "It isn't Republic housing, is it?"

"No, but most of the tenants work on base," said Karé. She nodded at a couple Finn didn't recognize talking to one of the X-wing technicians. "Our neighbors are in the control tower."

"You don't have to get drunk if you don't want to," said Poe, reaching for the shot in Finn's hands. "I'll drink yours for you."

"Um, that's ok," said Finn, pulling away from him. "I got it."

Jess cheered as Finn took the shot, and thumped his back when he started coughing from the burn in his throat. "Another?" she offered.

"Another," Poe nodded, lacing his fingers in Finn's once more to lead him into the kitchen, clearly visible from the main room and even more tightly packed with party-goers swarming for more alcohol.

"Where's Rey?" asked Finn, scanning the crowd as Poe said hello and patted backs, and made casual introductions. "Oh, there's Chewie." The ceilings were low in this apartment, and the poor Wookie had to stand slightly hunched over to avoid hitting his head. He was growling and rumbling happily to an older lady Finn recognized as one of the Resistance’s most knowledgeable engine mechanics.

Poe waved, and Chewie raised a glass and gave them a cheerful roar as they slipped into the kitchen.

“Hey, there you are!" Poe called.

Rey and C'ai Threnalli both paused their conversation to look at him, Rey lighting up with her warmest smile, and C’ai nodding their head toward Finn in welcome. “Hi you two! Have a nice reunion?” Rey’s teasing glee was back.

“Fantastic, thank you,” said Poe, finally releasing Finn’s hand to inspect the collection of bottles on the kitchen counters and selecting one to refill both their glasses. “How was your mystery meeting with the brass and bossy?”

“Productive,” said Rey. “I think they’re going to cooperate.” At Poe’s raised eyebrows, she  continued, “I need a benefactor, of sorts. Supplies, diplomatic connections, transit passes. I’m not looking to recreate the arrangement the Jedi had with the Old Republic, but we discussed some terms for mutual cooperation that ought to benefit both parties while keeping our respective autonomy.”

“Hmph,” Poe sniffed. “Well. Just take the old Council’s advice and don’t trust the Republic. One or two of them might be all right, but there’s a deep-seeded tradition of saving their own asses when the going gets tough. Don’t count on them to have your back.”

Rey smiled at him, a little sadly, but nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

C’ai warbled something in their musical language, patted Poe fondly on the back, then gave a short, surprisingly reverent bow to Finn as they extracted themself from the kitchen crowds. Finn found himself rather touched by the cheeriness and welcome all around him. He had really missed being around people, particularly these people,  _ his _ people, and he found there was a solid, shining core of warmth burning inside him that had nothing to do with the alcohol in his belly.

“Where’s my droid?” Poe looked around on the floor as he handed Finn another shot.

“Oh, I thought he was with Jess,” said Rey, leaning behind Poe to look out at the dimly-lit living room. 

“I didn’t see him out there,” said Poe, frowning a little. “Did you lose my droid?”

“Of course not, Poe, I had to Force-lift him up the stairs to-”

Finn was relieved to hear the familiar high-pitched beeping of an excited, possibly grumpy droid rolling into the kitchen behind them before Poe and Rey could continue their sniping (he had  _ not _ missed that part of their friendship), and a few yelps as he rolled over a foot here or there.

“Hey buddy!” Poe greeted him brightly.

< _ The spatial design of these lodgings is entirely unsuitable _ ,> the droid grumbled.

“Well, buddy, it’s a crowded party.”

< _ Stairs! Narrow doorways! I had better range of mobility on jungle dirt than the increased friction on this polypropylene textile! Perhaps Testor has intentionally chosen an exclusionary lodging facility for droids. _ >

Poe laughed. “That’s not the reason she chose it! You know she hates that nickname.” A binary snort. Poe turned back to Rey. “You spoil him. He sasses twice as much when he comes back.”

“Well, maybe he deserves to be spoiled a little,” said Rey, bending down to pat him on the dome. “After all, he’s hard-working, and loyal, and brave.” 

< _ Intelligent! _ >

“Yes, and very intelligent-”

< _ Resourceful _ !>

“Yes, that too, and-”

Poe rolled his eyes. “Oh, I see how this goes now. He gets spoiled and then I look like a jackass when-- Oh. Hello, Commander.” He straightened instantly, and pulsed a quick circle of midnight-blue distrust as a short man with reddish-brown hair, delicate features, and very freckled skin entered the kitchen. Finn estimated he was near Poe’s age, or perhaps a few years younger.

“Dameron,” the man nodded, opening the cooler and extracting a beer. He popped the top and took a drink before glancing once at Finn, a cool, appraising look; once at Rey, a shade warmer; and then back to Poe. “And I heard something about a General?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Just Finn these days,” said Finn, nodding at him and trying to smile.

“Oh, it was one of those honorary Resistance ranks?” the Commander turned to Poe.

“Careful, Jack, this is a Resistance party,” said Poe, lightly but with a steely undertone. “I can call you Jack at a party, right, sir?”

He ignored the question, and merely reached out a hand toward Finn. “Jack Thierssen.”

“Um, nice to meet you,” Finn shook Commander Thierssen’s hand, brief but firm. 

Thierssen gave him a curt nod, and then actually smiled faintly at Rey. Finn expected to be annoyed and protective by the obvious disparity in coldness to Poe and the warmth to Rey, but the smile was reserved and held more curiosity than flirtatiousness. “Jack Thierssen,” he repeated, offering his hand in turn.

“Rey Skywalker,” she said with a little nod.

“Skywalker?” he lit up a bit, then straightened up significantly. “Oh, then you must be-- It’s an honor to meet you, Ma’am.”

Rey couldn’t keep the smile back, or the blush. “Don’t be silly. Are you Poe’s commanding officer?”

“Officially,” said Poe.

“Yes, Ma’am,” said Thierssen, as though Poe hadn’t spoken. “At least, unless he makes a permanent transfer to ground operations.”

“So three more days until certification for active duty, and this cheerful face greets you for every 0500 patrol to bumfuck-Hutt-space. Right Jack?” Poe beamed with false enthusiasm. “What’re you doing here, anyway?”

Thierssen’s face remained impassive, but his voice was tight. “Lieutenant-Commander Kun invited me.”

“To a Resistance party?” Poe furrowed his eyebrows. “Why?”

“I thought it was a housewarming party,” said Thierssen.

“Technically, it’s both, we just barely have any non-Resistance friends,” said Karé as she swept into the kitchen and poured herself a shot of pale whisky. She drank it quickly, then put the shot glass in the sink. “You two playing nice? Give Thierssen a break, he’s trying.” She pulled one arm around Poe’s shoulders, and then the other around Thierssen. “And be nice to Poe, he’s finally got his boyfriend back.” 

Thierssen coughed on his beer at the word ‘boyfriend’. 

Poe pointed, and Finn waved. “Finn,” he reminded him.

“I heard,” said Thierssen, still coughing, “When you arrived.”

Karé clapped them both once more, and then wove her way back out of the kitchen.

“Need some water, pal?”

“I’m fine,” Thierssen wheezed. He took another sip of his beer, eyes slightly watering, then issued a short, but polite, “Nice to meet you, Ma’am.” Then he nodded at Finn, barely tilted his chin at Poe, and swept stiffly out of the kitchen.

“He seems fun,” Rey remarked innocently, and Poe laughed.

“He seemed pretty painfully shy, actually,” said Finn.

Poe rolled his eyes. “He’s like if the Uniform Code became sentient.”

“Which seems like a very good thing for a Republic pilot,” Rey reminded him. 

“And my worst nightmare,” said Poe.

Finn grinned. “I thought your worst nightmare were those armies of giant blue spider-crabs on Ajan Kloss?”

“Or cave bones?” Rey added, then laughed when she saw Poe make a face and shiver a little. 

“Great party! I love this. Let’s drink more and talk about my nightmares,” he said, reaching for the bottle again.

“I’m going to check on Jess,” said Rey, easing around an incoming group of party-goers cluttering up the narrow doorway. “She’s a bit...er, exuberant tonight.”

Poe immediately took advantage of her absence and tucked himself against Finn’s shoulder, sliding an arm around his waist and dipping down to the upper curve of his ass. He pressed a little kiss into Finn’s neck. “Alone again, at last,” said Poe with a grin, then he noticed the full glass already in Finn’s hand. “You gonna drink that, buddy?”

Finn kept his eyes locked on Poe’s as he lifted the glass and drank it down, managing not to cough this time. “You trying to get me drunk?”

“Always.” Poe leaned over to kiss him gently on the temple, but before Finn could kiss him back properly, he tilted his head to whisper, not very quietly, hot breath in Finn’s ear, “Really, I’m trying to decide whether to blow you in the ‘fresher here, or wait until the cab ride home.”

Finn looked over at him, sharing a sly smile, and opened his mouth to respond when a loud, booming knock echoed menacingly at the door.

“Come in, dumbass, the door’s open!” Jess bellowed from the living room.

The knock echoed again, and Finn felt a current of  _ something-not-right _ filter under the door frame. Poe seemed to feel his shoulders tense, or maybe was picking up on the same eerie seriousness that the knock seemed to promise, and without words, together, they pushed through the crowd into the living room. Finn vaguely felt Rey squaring up behind him.

“Kriff, you idiot,” Jess was saying, as she pressed the button to slide open the door, “It’s a party, door’s fucking open-- Oh. Shit. Are we being too loud?”

“Jessika Pava?” asked the man on the doorstep. He was half-covered in shadow from the dark porch ( _ wasn’t there a porch light when we came up the steps? _ ) but he towered over Jess, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. 

“Yeah, sorry, are you getting complaints? We’ll turn the music down,” said Jess. As if on cue, someone (probably Karé) adjusted the volume and the music faded to a reasonable level; after a few seconds to register the shift, so did the cacophony of conversation.

“Sorry to interrupt your fun, but I’ve been sent up by the super to investigate a maintenance issue,” said the man as he held up a bag of tools. He had a very deep voice, and a lilt to his cadence that Finn didn’t recognize - similar to Rey’s, but far broader in the vowels and twistier in the consonants. “Mind if I come in?”

“A maintenance issue?” Jess wrinkled her eyebrows. “Wait, you’re finally fixing the heat? Now? I mean, that’s great, come on in, but are you sure it’s not the noise?”

“Took a time to get the right parts on the work order,” said the man as he stepped into the living room. “Only be a minute. You are Jessika Pava, aren’t you?” And he smiled, showing very white teeth that gleamed even in the dim light.

“Yeah, that’s-- hang on, I’ll get the lights,” said Jess, stepping aside to close the door behind him and key the lights on overhead.

The maintenance man seemed somehow taller and broader as the apartment lights defined his features. Dark skin, barely a shade lighter than Finn’s, close-cut hair, and a thin goatee so sharply trimmed it looked like it was carved by a hunting knife. “This’ll only take a few minutes,” he said, jostling his bag at his side.

“Stop!” Poe suddenly shouted, in a voice that froze Finn’s feet where they stood and set the room silent. He barreled in front of Finn, putting his entire body between him and the man on the threshold. “Stop. Wait. Don’t move.”

Before Finn could find two thoughts to piece together what was happening, Karé had pushed through the crowd to take her own protective stance in front of Jess, her blaster raised at the stranger’s back. “What are you? A clone?” and she glanced at Poe, adding quietly, almost as an aside, but the room had gone as quiet as the vacuum of space and she might as well have been shouting. “Is that even possible?”

“I don’t know,” said Poe, stone-faced. Finn could feel his heart racing, could almost hear the blood pumping at full speed. 

“Well, this isn’t going exactly the way I planned, is it?” the man chuckled, shaking his head and pasting on an unnerving grin full of those gleaming white teeth as he raised one hand and slowly lowered the tool bag to the floor before raising his other one. He glanced over his shoulder at Karé, briefly, before turning a piercing gaze squarely at Poe. “I’m not a clone.”

“Some kind of surgery, then?” Poe demanded. “Who are you?”

“What’s going on?” asked Rey, moving to Poe’s side with her lightsaber in hand but not ignited. 

“He said he was from maintenance?” said Jess, looking nervously between them and wiggling her fingers at her side in the absence of a blaster holster.

Karé snorted. “Doubtful.”

“I’m not here to fix the heat, I’m afraid,” the man agreed with a gentle nod.

“Not his brother, either, seeing as how he didn’t have a brother,” said Karé.

“Well, there’s no way in hell you can be-” Poe started, but was interrupted by BB-8 as he rolled to join their line of defense.

< _ Height: 1.92 meters. Voice recognition: confirmed. Facial feature recognition: confirmed. Reasonable and sufficient data to conclude this is Designation-Mur- _ > __

Poe stuck out a foot and knocked his chassis. “No, he’s not. He’s dead.”

“Spicy! Don’t kick Bee-Bee Ate. That’s not like you,” said the man, and Finn tensed as he saw Poe’s spine go rigid.

“Don’t talk to him,” said Poe, face flushing bright red, extremely flustered. “You don’t know what I’m like.”

“Ah, I’ve always known what you like,” the stranger grinned again. “But please don’t shoot me, Karé. I need your help.”


	4. Chapter 4

BB-8 let out a high-pitched, scolding beep. < _Master-Poe will always help, but Designation-Muran has lost mental capacity since the attack if you think Master-Poe would not question your true intentions, > _and the stranger on the doorstep laughed again. 

“You know, I’ve really never met a droid as clever as this one. I’m glad you still have him.” He was still smiling, looking at Poe with a strange sort of tenderness that entirely conflicted with the stern, red-faced anger that Poe was reflecting back at him. “It’s nice to see you.”

“Who are you, really?” Poe asked again. “You can’t honestly expect me to believe that you’re-”

“Who else would I be?” he said. “You know I’m me, Spicy.”

“Prove it,” said Poe, jutting his chin up in challenge. “And don’t call me that.”

“You really want to do it that way?” He sighed. “Fine, do you want a blood sample or a secret I promised to take to the grave?”

“Karé, shoot him,” said Poe.

“Poe,” said Rey, and Finn finally found his voice. 

“Hey, I think he’s telling the truth about-- about this,” Finn said quietly, over his shoulder. The stranger didn’t seem entirely trustworthy, but Finn felt fairly certain that the waves of truth, if not honesty, flowing toward him through the Force were real. Meanwhile, he could see Poe’s hesitation and fury, and something very close to pain, deep in the muscle, like a nerve that fires every so often when it remembers an old injury, radiating off of him like steam evaporating off a wet runway, and knew he would momentarily lose what little control he was holding to himself. “At least, he...he thinks he is who he says he is. Maybe we should hear him out.”

The silence stretched. Finn felt the protectiveness rising in each of the ex-Resistance members of the party milling around them, deep and solid, options being evaluated, waiting for orders, waiting to strike if requested. He knew without a doubt that there wasn’t a single person present who would abandon them for their own safety, and even despite the circumstances, he felt bolstered by the loyalty and courage. Poe’s people, who became _his_ people. He had missed being a part of this.

Karé, at least, made a decision and dropped the blaster to her hip. “Party’s over,” she said. “Everyone out.”

The room erupted in protests. “I don’t think-”

“-bad feeling about-”

“We’ll comm Captain Deonor, she’ll-”

“Look at you and your army,” Muran smirked, resting his shoulder blades against the wall and angling his feet out in front of him. “I see why they’re not letting you anywhere near a starfighter.”

Poe tensed again, and this time, Jess stepped in. “Thanks for coming, goodbye!” she said with bright, faux-cheeriness that was clearly aided by her lack of sobriety and the absurdity of the situation, cheeks flushed and beaming. “We’ll have a make-up party next weekend! Enjoy the early bedtime! We’ve got a Jedi, he’s got a wrench, it’s aaaaaaaall fine, folks!”

Muran laughed, shifting to the side as the suspicious crowd started to shuffle reluctantly out of the apartment. “Think you’re my favorite so far, Honeybee.”

“Gross,” said Jess, wrinkling her nose. Then, at an imploring burble from the Abednedo, she nodded, “Go on, C’ai. I’ll comm you later. Promise,” and they followed the others. 

The apartment was nearly empty now. “You too, Fuzzy,” Muran called across the room, as Chewbacca showed no signs of leaving his sentry post by the window.

Chewie growled and crossed his arms over his chest, taking two steps forward and then stopping pointedly. 

“Yes, it is a good question, isn’t it?” Rey nodded, reattaching her lightsaber to her belt. “How exactly _do_ you think you’d be able to make him?”

“Oh, is he with you, Storm Cloud?” the man tilted his head. “Fine. And you’re the C.O., right?” he glanced the other way, where Finn was startled that stocky, rigid little Commander was still standing at the back of the room with his hands in his pockets.

“I’m not leaving, either,” he said before the demand could be issued.

“It’s okay, Thierssen,” Karé gestured to the door. “We got it covered.”

“I’m the C.O.,” he repeated, as though that settled the matter. 

“How the fuck are you here?” Poe sputtered, ignoring Thierssen entirely and throwing his free arm protectively across Finn’s chest when he shifted his feet. “How are you alive? If you’re not a clone, then what are you?”

“You’re serious about that blood sample, huh?” Muran shook his head. “We can do this, but you won’t like it.”

“You _exploded_ , so yeah, I’m going to be a little suspicious,” said Poe.

“Exploded?” Rey repeated.

“Look,” Muran sighed. “I don’t know if you’ll believe me, but I didn’t know what they were going to do. The attack, I mean, and then my ship. Was just told there was a ‘special mission’ directly after our run. Special tech, more like, and don’t ask me to explain it because that’s not my department. I wasn’t really conscious to see it all through, anyway,” Slowly, he straightened up against the wall, growing serious, taller than anyone else in the room save Chewie. “By the time they let me out of the medbay and anywhere near a comm, you’d gone AWOL, and-”

“What medbay? Where?” Poe interrupted. “We searched the wreckage for _hours_ , Muran, there weren’t any other ships. It’s not possible-”

“Isn’t it? We were pretty exhausted, remember?” said Muran. “Patrol at 0600, distress signal at 0620, and we’d only fallen asleep, what, two hours before? Force’s hell, you could drag a fight out all night, among other things.” And then he gave a little wink, a little smile.

Poe went very still.

Muran was at his full height now, eyes locked on Poe, dark clothes, shadowed eyes, those gleaming white teeth. “Can’t remember what we were arguing about now. Do you? Perhaps you hadn’t even meant it, when you asked me.”

“That’s not-” Poe breathed out, and then he stopped himself.

“It’s been a time, so I don’t expect it still counts,” Muran continued, taking another step closer to Poe. “Maybe it never counted, if you didn’t tell anyone. I’m guessing he didn’t tell you, Karé?” he turned his gaze, again that smile. Finn realized that he was enjoying this reunion, tense and volatile as it was.

Karé hesitated. “What’s he talking about?” she asked Poe.

Poe didn’t answer, and neither did Muran. Muran just slid his hands in his pockets, appraising Poe up and down, and his smile turned a little sad. “I won’t hold you to it,” he said, as though he were bestowing a favor or forgiving a debt. “It’s been too long. Especially since you’ve...heh. Man, you do have a type,” and he glanced at Finn. “But you did ask.”

Poe stopped breathing and Finn felt a surge of _something_ , some deep spark of a feeling beyond color, a specific, intense feeling, like the shock waves after an explosion that rippled out from Poe’s core and into the world. It was just a flash; he couldn’t quite name what it was, but Finn felt it pass through the marrow of his bones in an instant, and then was gone. 

Muran was still watching Poe, and Poe was still rooted to the floor. Finally, when no one moved, and Poe was starting to shake a little, Muran said quietly, “I have missed you.” And he tilted his head. “You look good.”

“I--” Poe started, and then “Shit, I’m going to-” and he covered his mouth and launched for the ‘fresher door. He barely made it inside before Finn heard him throwing up violently, like he was retching from his toes and turning his stomach inside-out. Finn briefly wondered if he should follow him, but BB-8 squawked disapprovingly at Muran and rolled toward the ‘fresher, cooing in his worried tone.

“Cor, that boy,” Muran sighed. “Always so sensitive.” Then he turned his smile on Finn. “So what’s your story, Baby-Face? I didn’t know he liked them _this_ young. What are you, 22?”

“Leave him alone, Muran,” said Karé in a cold voice, tucking her blaster into the back of her waistband. “Guess you’re still an asshole.”

Muran laughed and let his shoulders slouch again, relaxed and deceptively amiable. “It’s nice to see you, too, Karé.”

“Get bent,” she said. Then she called, “You okay, Poe?” without taking her eyes off Muran.

Finn heard Poe cough several times, then continue to vomit the last of the liquid in his stomach. 

< _Master-Poe is temporarily incapacitated but otherwise functional,_ > BB-8 whistled from the doorway.

Finn was beginning to formulate a theory (the only theory, it was always the underlying theory) but there were too many colors swirling in the room to consider it clearly. Flashes of dark blue, roiling black-red, Jess was too many shades of pink (all shades she would hate, if she could see them: pale pink, and blinding neon, and pinkish-red like the mildew in a shower), mixed in with a wan light overhead and an increasing throb of black dread in the back of his head, like a dehydration headache. “Um, so can someone explain what’s going on here?”

“I’m pretty drunk, though, so use really small words,” Jess added.

“Muran was part of Rapier Squadron with me and Iolo,” said Karé. “Back when Poe was the Commander. Six years ago,” with a glance at Rey and Finn, “We were doing a routine patrol and the First Order attacked a freighter in Republic space. We engaged to fight them off, but they managed to jump away with the ship, and Muran got caught in the wake.” She looked up at him, then, putting her hands on her hips. “Your ship was completely torn apart. There was no time for you to eject. It's not physically _possible_ for you to be here.”

“Nope,” said Muran, though he pulled at the neck of his black collared work shirt to expose some reddish-brown, bubbling skin of healed-over burns on his shoulder. “Just lucky. We test out a lot of new tech. Sometimes it’s a formal test, sometimes it’s just weird shit we try when the need arises. It’s all technically classified.”

“Who’s _we_?” Finn finally addressed Muran directly. “Whose tech?”

Muran raised an eyebrow and regarded him carefully, not unlike he was studying an insect or an unusual dinner entree. A little bemused, but wary.

“Answer him,” Poe finally reappeared from the ‘fresher, looking very pale, BB-8 at his side. Again, he positioned himself protectively just in front of Finn. “Where have you been all this time? Who are you working for?”

“What are you implying?” Muran said. He was smiling again, but it was thin and dangerous. 

“Are you a First Order operative?” Finn clarified. 

Muran laughed, loudly, mouth open to the ceiling, and then Karé’s blaster had slipped into Finn’s hands. Finn managed not to jump, managed not to stir, managed not to move a muscle in his face to betray his own utter shock and surprise (he hadn’t even reached for the blaster in his mind, he’d barely thought about it, like it was instinct and an extension of his body, here he was, just a conduit for a weapon, again). His stomach was performing back flips at the way Poe’s eyes widened, how he shifted away, at how every single person in the room looked at him at once, with differing levels of blankness or understanding (or fear). At how even Rey’s solid core of gray and blue and white swirled with excitement, tension, and was that pride?

Finn pointed the blaster at Muran, and asked again. “Are you First Order?”

“Interesting,” said Muran, staring at the blaster in his hand. 

“Answer him,” Poe said again.

“Seriously?” Muran turned on Poe. “Come on, man. We dated for almost five years.”

“Four,” said Poe. _Four years!?_ Finn felt something inside him switch off, like turning out the lights, and half the color in the room dimmed. 

“Four years and five months, Spicy. I’m a little hurt.”

“I don’t count that part,” said Poe. “And stop calling me that.”

"Lieutenant, then," said Muran. "P-Dameron. Call sign: Danger Beetle."

The edges of Poe's mouth quirked in a smile, though he quickly pressed his lips together to suppress it. “Don’t bullshit me, Muran. Answer the question.”

“I’m not a First Order operative,” said Muran, emphatically, slowly raising his hands. “I’m Republic. I serve on the _Ligeia_ under Admiral Felian Vancil. I made Commander three years ago.”

Finn glanced at Poe first, and then Rey. “Do you believe him?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Rey with a serious nod. 

“Poe?”

Poe sighed heavily, and gently tapped Finn’s outstretched forearm. Finn lowered the blaster to the floor. 

“You’re really alive,” said Poe.

"I am. Sorry to leave you hanging," said Muran, and Finn thought he meant it. “Wasn’t my idea. Duty, promise to serve, and all that.”

Poe sniffed a little laugh at that, dark and sarcastic. “Duty? I had to debrief for _hours_ after you-- I had to speak at your funeral. I wrote to your _mother_ .” Poe was radiating fury again, but Finn could feel that it was defensive, like a last-ditch effort to stop that painful nerve from firing. “I’ve written to your mother _every year_. This is a shitty thing to do to someone.”

“I know.” And then Muran straightened again. “But I need your help.”

Poe sighed again. “For what?”

“I can’t give you all the details yet. The Admiral will give you a full briefing once we get there,” said Muran, and then a hint of that smile crept back into his face. “But trust me, it’ll get you in the air.”

Poe raised an eyebrow, a hint of interest, then bit his lip. “I’m about to get recertified.”

“That’s why I’m here,” said Muran. 

“No, I’m saying, I’m getting recertified on Centaxday day. I don’t need you to-- I’m about to do it, on my own.”

“And I’m saying you aren’t,” said Muran. “You know that, right? It won’t matter how well you fly on Centaxday. They probably won’t even let you test. There’ll be excuse after excuse. They’re never going to let you fly again, Poe. Not if you stay here.”

Poe stared at him for a long time, somehow growing harder on the outside and softer on the inside, like something held tight was sifting through his fingers. 

Muran seemed to sense opportunity in the silence, drifting closer and, suddenly, it was like the apartment was empty. Muran was fixing a set of piercing, dark eyes on Poe, and Poe alone, and there was a fierce intimacy in his voice when he spoke. "You’ve got every reason to be pissed at me, and I don’t blame you for it. But when I heard what they were doing to you when you came back, I couldn’t believe my damn ears. You're being wasted. Wasting Poe Dameron? Waste your time, waste your energy, waste your knowledge, waste your skill? It’s an insult. It’s criminal negligence. You can't put Spicy on the goddamn bench, that's like putting a Delta-7B in a collector’s warehouse.” 

"So with you grounded, that makes me the best pilot flying the stars.” Muran was slowly approaching Poe in the center of the room, a caiman floating toward the riverbank like a log in the water. “And that's a damn shame because I fly even better with a little competition. So. I’ve got a mission for you. Want to come fly with me?" He smiled again, now very close to Poe, and this time, Poe smiled back.

Finn was starting to get a very bad feeling about this.

***

“Wait, _this_ is the _Millennium Falcon_?” Muran scoffed as he strolled up the gangplank, followed by the reluctant and, in Jess’s case, still somewhat drunk, ex-Resistance fighters. “It’s hideous. It looks like-”

“Oh wow,” Jess had her mouth open, eyes bright. “Chewie, it looks _wonderful_! Look at the new paneling!” She pointed at several sections, shiny and perfectly fitted over what used to be an open mess of wires, while Chewie preened and yammered on, presumably about the conduit replacements or the hyperdrive upgrade. “This is the nicest the ship has ever looked!”

“Are...are you serious right now?” Muran blinked.

“The _smell_ is gone!” Jess gasped, taking a deep, exaggerated breath. 

Finn couldn’t keep from chuckling at that, a little proud that someone had noticed. In the six months prior to Finn’s arrival on Kamparas, Rey and Chewie had spent an extensive number of hours repairing the old ship, improving functionality, reliability (and, in Chewie’s case, making long-desired modifications that Han Solo had never agreed to authorize). But once they’d completed those repairs, they had immediately moved on to similar updates in the old Jedi Training Center left dormant since the days of the Old Republic. When Finn had arrived to join them, unused and uncomfortable with the concept of ‘down time,’ he spent a solid week scrubbing and polishing every centimeter of the old ship’s interior. “Yeah, that part took ages. Probably hasn’t been properly cleaned in 20 years.”

“Ugh,” Jess groaned. “I do _not_ want to think about all the Han Solo spunk drying behind the weird sex places-”

“Jess!” Karé thwacked her on the arm. “Sober up, please.”

Muran tripped over a skittering ball of feathers squawking across the floor. “It’s...it has rats? It’s infested? Are you kidding me?” 

“Those are porgs,” said Jess, shoving another one out of the way with the toe of her boot. “So, rats that fly. But they eat the desert mites that actually were infesting the shield wiring, and they’re from some Jedi island so they’re probably sacred animals...”

“I don’t know about that, but they are tasty,” Karé shrugged. “Need a lot of salt, though.”

Muran’s eyes went wide, and he laughed again. “You _eat_ them?”

“Hey, it’s not the worst idea to have a self-replicating food source on board,” Karé shrugged, settling carefully into one of the seats on the freshly-polished _dejarik_ table and patting Jess’s shoulder as she settled in next to her. “Nice job, Finn. The place really does look great.”

“Thanks.” Finn found himself a quiet corner, near the hallway to the captain’s quarters, and tried not to draw further attention to himself. He was still confused and, if he were honest, still suppressing not a small amount of panic at how readily the blaster had leapt into his hands when all previous efforts with rocks and plates and helmets and any other inanimate object he had tried to lift with the Force had failed. He wasn’t sure what happened. He wasn’t sure what was currently happening, only that he was feeling a little nauseous and nervous and ( _four years... Four years!? And what did he ask him?_ ) still this dark feeling, this additional _something_ , not quite a premonition but an echo of something similar from an earlier time, something that used to mean _danger_ , or _warning_ , or _they’re coming for you_ or _run._

No one had mentioned his trick with the blaster, but no one had met his eyes since it happened. Once Poe agreed to the mission, the discussion had immediately turned to ships and jump times; Finn couldn’t recall any of the other pilots demanding or asking to come along, they just simply fell in behind Poe. There hadn’t really been time to talk to Rey about it, either. She’d squeezed his shoulder, but quickly drifted away to talk to Chewie in a hushed voice. 

BB-8 whistled something to him as he rolled on board, and it sounded encouraging, but Finn didn’t catch it. “Hi BeeBee,” he said. “You excited for a mission?”

< _Affirmative! Master-Poe has been longing for a mission!_ > the droid beeped cheerfully.

“I, for one, am really excited to have seven half-drunk, grumpy pilots all stuck on the same ship, arguing about how best to fly it,” Jess was saying sarcastically. “Remember that? Remember how fun that used to be?”

“Ugh,” Karé rolled her eyes. “As long as Poe and Rey don’t-”

“-don’t be ridiculous, Poe, of course I’m flying the ship,” Rey was saying tersely as she and Poe walked up the boarding ramp and into the galley. “But I really think you ought to-”

“I’m not letting him out of my sight,” Poe hissed back at her. “I still don’t trust-- What?” he snapped as he heard Karé and Jess groan in unison.

Chewie grumbled something slightly scolding (which drew an affronted “Hey!” from Poe), and then growled something at Muran, who looked back at Poe for translation, but it was Rey who stepped in to mediate.

“Chewie says he needs the coordinates to the _Ligeia_ ,” she said patiently, ignoring the increasingly dark look that Poe was giving her and gliding toward the cockpit without looking back.

“I’ll enter them,” said Muran, following her down the hall. “Gonna need to wipe the memory later, hope that’s not a problem?”

“Like hell you are-” Poe started, before Karé jumped up from her seat and hauled him back down to the _dejarik_ table by the back of his jacket. “Hey!”

“Poe,” said Karé quietly, staring down at him. “We only have a few minutes while he’s busy in the cockpit and then you know he’s going to creep back down here, so let’s talk.”

“Not with _him_ here,” Poe looked darkly in Finn’s direction. Finn’s stomach nearly dropped through his knees before he realized that Thierssen had gravitated toward his quiet corner, the last one to board the ship, standing awkwardly with his hands in his pockets and a very uncertain expression. Finn wondered why he’d come, out-of-place as he was, and decided to interpret his clear, ocean-blue Force energy as something akin to honor or obligation. 

“Don’t be a dick,” said Karé. “Thierssen’s all right.” When she seemed satisfied that Poe had settled down enough to keep his grumpiness in check, she nodded and patted his shoulder. “Okay. So what’s the plan?”

“We fly the mission, we go home,” said Poe, chewing on his lower lip. 

“What do you think the mission is?”

“I don’t know.” And then Poe was finally looking at Finn, dropping his eyes down briefly once Finn met his gaze, as though it were too much, but quickly back again. Finn tried not to fidget; tried to hold his eyes even with the too-many-colors suddenly swirling toward him (midnight blue, rusty-brown, vermilion, scarlet) and leaned his shoulder against the bulkhead. He felt a bit dizzy.

The ship’s engines began to hum. “What do you think?” Poe asked him.

Finn blinked. “Me?”

“Yeah. I’m-- I’m too close to this. What’s your read?”

Finn tried to speak carefully, blankly, not to let the insecurity and the personal interfere with his assessment of the situation. Trying to focus on the fact that, whatever Muran’s reappearance meant for them privately, Poe still asked for his tactical opinion. “Well…” he started, raising his fingers to tick off the items on his list, “We’ve got a Republic Commander who was supposedly killed by the First Order in a stunt that was almost certainly designed to provoke a war. That was why you joined the Resistance, right? I remember you telling me about this, about...about one of your pilots getting killed-” _Not that the guy who was killed was your freaking long-term boyfriend, but…_ “-and the Republic refusing to do anything about it.”

“Right,” said Poe, and continued with dripping bitterness, “Which just gave them all the time they needed to develop, test, and deploy Starkiller.”

“Okay, yeah,” Finn said, trying not to get frustrated at the irrelevance of that interjection. “But that was six years ago. Right now, that same Republic Commander just loaded up the one ship that the First Order hates more than anything in the galaxy, and he’s loaded it with three ex-Resistance pilots who’ve collectively destroyed all of their favorite toys, the Jedi who took down their Emperor and both of their Supreme Leaders, and...and me.”

“You think the Republic’s going to attack the First Order?” Poe’s eyes sparked a little at the thought.

“Yeah, I do,” Finn nodded. “Maybe they found something to hit; a base, or a planet they’re still occupying. Maybe they just don’t want to wait around until someone fills the power vacuum in the leadership or they find another Dark Jedi.”

“Well, if that’s true, it’s about damn time,” said Poe, scratching the top of one of his knuckles. “If they hadn’t dragged me back here, the Resistance could have built up and hit them first, while they were on the run. Instead, we’ve just been ferrying transport and escorting convoys while the Senate dicks around.”

“Building defenses,” said Finn, thinking of the cranes. 

Poe rolled his eyes. “Building themselves pretty houses. All the Senate cares about is skyline views.”

“I don’t know, Poe,” said Finn. “They can’t really afford to ignore what’s left of the Order after Hosnia. My entire training was about destroying the Republic. All day, every day. Every simulation, every propaganda holovid, every speech. For twenty years. Without the Supreme Leader to direct that energy, and without the Resistance to present a more immediate threat, that’s all most of the Troopers and junior officers are going to know: destroy the Republic. And the Troopers and junior officers may be the only ones left calling the shots right now.”

“Wait, wait. Who are you?” Thierssen said, eyebrows raised to his hairline.

“Shut up, Jack. He’s a General,” said Poe. “Finn, the only defense the Republic has against another Starkiller is to hit them first.”

“Maybe. Probably.” Finn was swaying a little with the back-and-forth tidal shifts of the Force colors moving around the room, a bit calmer now, and the _Falcon_ began to lift off of the landing pad under their feet. 

“Vancil hates the First Order,” Thierssen said suddenly.

“What?” Poe perked up. “You know him?”

“Served with him on the _Reaver_ ,” said Thierssen. “My first post after the Academy. He was always furious that the Fleet Admiral took such a tentative approach every time they tested our defenses. He wanted to fight back. Maybe the new Fleet Admiral finally let him off the leash.”

“Okay. Okay, that’s good,” Poe nodded. He settled against the firm back of the _dejarik_ booth and smiled at Finn from under his eyelashes. “Guess we’ll see when we get there.”

“Yeah,” said Finn. “Guess so.” He closed his eyes, and tried to find a path through the swirling colors that would lead to a calm, blank place in the back of his mind.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Thank you, everyone, for all of your kind, supportive, thoughtful comments. I’m so very glad you are enjoying the story, and I hope you continue to enjoy this little emotionally-manipulating roller coaster I have here. 
> 
> Also, if you have not yet watched John Boyega’s passionate speech denouncing racism and police violence, I highly recommend you do so.

They dropped out of hyperspace into unknown territory. As far as Poe could tell, it was a random series of coordinates that weren’t connected to any recognizable star system; just open, black space surrounded by stars. 

The _Falcon_ was escorted into a small landing bay, settling down with a delicate, barely-perceptible wobble. Muran herded the tired group into a lift almost immediately, but Poe did try to take a careful look around the ship at what was possible to see in glimpses. He knew that Finn was doing the same with his even sharper eye, so they could compare later, and he slotted in beside him, brushing shoulders, not quite daring to take his hand. There was far too much to think about here, far too much that needed to be explained, and he chose to focus on the tasks at hand for now and leave the inevitably-awkward conversation for a better moment. He hoped that Finn was thinking the same thing.

Poe hadn’t spent much time on Republic starships during his first tour of service with the Navy; as a young pilot, he’d been part of the New Republic Defense Fleet on Hosnia before his promotion to Commander of Rapier Squadron, which was still based planet-side. As far as he could tell, this was either a MC80B or MC90 Republic Star Cruiser. (Thierssen would probably know, but he refused to allow himself to ask.) The ship was not new, but it had clearly been heavily modified for both style and performance.

Once they were out of the lift and escorted to the bridge, he was somewhat struck by the strange and unsettling parallels between this ship and the glittering starkness of a First Order Star Destroyer: the black and gray uniforms on the officers, the shining white and steel polish of the bulkheads and walls, the glossy floors. There was a good deal more cadet blue and stone gray in the lower-ranked personnel that scurried in and out, and a good deal less stark white, faceless armored Troopers, no blood-red sigils to be found, but compared to the colorful, eclectic patchwork of the Resistance fleet, it had a disorienting similarity.

Admiral Felian Vancil, it turned out, was a short, squat Mythrol with particularly pronounced ear ridges and deep, purple-blue skin. His white uniform was perfectly pressed and covered with a variety of insignias and medals that Poe didn’t recognize, and his expression was solemn and difficult to decipher. 

“Well, and here you all are,” he greeted them briskly. “Welcome to the _Ligeia._ I apologize for the unorthodox manner of your collection, but we were trying to avoid the delay and the info-trail that comes with transfer paperwork.”

“Is it some kind of weird hazing tradition? Do you kidnap or fake the death of everyone on this ship?” asked Poe, continuing to look around.

“Not _everyone_ , no,” said the Admiral lightly, and then drifted his head toward Muran. “So, this is the one?” 

“That’s him,” said Muran without meeting Poe’s eye, standing at some sort of mockery of parade rest.

“Lieutenant Dameron,” the Admiral nodded. “I’ve been led to believe that you’re exactly who we need here.”

“The only one crazy enough to get it done properly, sir,” Muran interjected.

“Hm,” said the Admiral. “That’s what they said about you, and look what I ended up with.” The two exchanged a smirk, clearly a running joke between them, and Poe felt a wash of anger again.

“Hiya, sir,” Poe began, shooting off an impish salute. “But I’m not going anywhere or flying anything until I get some answers. Several answers. To a long list of questions. First, where in stars’ hell _are_ we?”

“Officially speaking, we’re nowhere,” said the Admiral. “Also officially speaking, this ship does not exist.”

“So you’re just a black-ops cruiser floating around in Wild Space, picking targets and scooping up pilots at whim?” Poe sputtered.

“Not at whim, Lieutenant,” sighed the Admiral, with the barest semblance of patience. “We have a charter. We have funding, Senatorial authority, and direct oversight by the Fleet Admiral and the Chancellor.”

“Who both died in the Cataclysm.” 

“Kyrn Holhorres and Oolwal Jes have been recently appointed to the posts, as you’re well aware,” said the Admiral.

“So, what, you’ve just been waiting until they were filled?” Poe was feeling angry again. “Watching the action, while the First Order conquered planet after planet? This ship could have stopped Corellia. You could have--where were you on Exegol? What the hell are we _doing_ here?”

The Admiral laughed loud enough to drown out the rest of Poe’s sputtering, and shook his head. “See, Muran? And you were always wondering if I chose the right rapier. This, this.” He tapped his ear, giving Muran a little wink, and then moved on from Poe without taking any further notice, leaving him flummoxed, mouth half-open, trying desperately to avoid any attempts to interpret the strange, contemplative look on Muran’s face. 

“Jack!” the Admiral grinned, clapping Thierssen on the back so hard he nearly tipped over. “Good to see you!”

“Sir,” Thierssen managed a salute as soon as he’d regained his footing.

“Gave our Jaquiare his first promotion, on the _Reaver_ ," said the Admiral, nodding with approval. "Finest cadet I ever saw out of the Academy." Poe wondered if he should feel guilty that it pleased him to have yet another reason to be suspicious of Thierssen, these petty bits of evidence for his own prejudice. _Also, ew, dumb name._

“Now, FN-2187, but you prefer Finn, is that correct?” Vancil said next, and oh, that brought Poe’s attention back in a hurry.

“My name is Finn.” He regarded the Admiral stoically, guarded and reserved.

“Understood, Mr. Finn,” nodded the Admiral. “You’re quite the unique individual. You were indoctrinated into the First Order as a Stormtrooper, yes? And, within a year of your defection, rose to the second-highest ranking leadership of the Resistance. And now, I understand, a Jedi?” He tapped his hands together, an approximation of a clap. “You have a knack for making influential friends, hm?”

Finn just looked at him, jaw set but face blank. Poe wanted to push the Admiral back two feet by his brass buttons for the audacity to suggest that any of those accomplishments were due to bestowed favors (or that nonsense about being _second_ -ranking, they were _co-Generals_ , goddamn it), but there was also a little swell of pride at how Finn always refrained from taking the bait that he himself would have swallowed whole. “When did you start surveillance on Poe’s comm?” Finn asked instead.

The Admiral and Muran both raised their eyebrows, and then the Admiral started to laugh. “Just over two weeks ago.”

“Were you going to pull him two weeks ago?” Finn asked. “And then delayed when you found out Rey and I were coming soon?”

The Admiral nodded again, looking impressed now. “Yes, that’s correct. Muran, did you give-”

“What’s the target?” Finn interrupted. “I’ve been out for two years now. You can’t think I have any useful intel about their current defenses.”

The Admiral looked at Muran, who shrugged. “Who knew a little Stormtrooper grunt was so smart? Most of them can barely shoot.”

 _Oh, he can shoot_ , Poe wanted to say, but he tried to take a cue from Finn, for once in his damn life, and kept his stupid kriffing mouth shut.

“Hm,” said the Admiral. “Well, better come along. We’ll get you briefed, and then-”

Muran cleared his throat, and glanced pointedly at Rey.

“Please excuse my manners,” Vancil immediately turned to her, nodding his head in something close to a short bow. “I’m not used to entertaining Jedi and their...ah, associates.” Even he looked a little nervous at the combination of battle-hardened Wookie standing behind her shoulder and the presence of Rey’s lightsaber hanging at her belt. Poe found himself a pleased that no one seemed to be underestimating either of them. Perhaps it helped that, as young and beautiful as Rey looked, she reverberated with untapped power the more still she stood.

“Pleased to meet you,” Rey nodded. “I understand you need our help?”

“Yes, yes, we should discuss,” said the Admiral, sweeping his arm wide to usher Rey away from the main bridge. 

They filed into a small briefing room with weak lights and uncomfortable chairs. BB-8 rolled himself next to Poe. < _Are you functional?_ >

Poe smiled down at him, and patted his dome. “Yeah, buddy. I’m fine.”

< _Designation-Muran is also functional,_ > the droid said, somehow managing to add the appropriate amount of disapproval to the beeping, and swiveled his dome toward Muran, who was busying himself at the display controls. Poe would never cease questioning how a droid could manage to look suspicious without any way of making facial expressions, but he was grateful for the loyalty.

“It’s okay, BeeBee,” he said. He looked around for Finn and found him sitting directly behind him, arms crossed over his chest and staring with a similarly-suspicious look on his face at the Admiral. Poe tried to catch his eye, but Finn was either too focused on the situation or he was avoiding the eye contact. _Fair. This might be the worst second date in the history of the galaxy._

The Admiral began to speak as soon as the door had slid closed and the lights dimmed. “I have commanded the _Ligeia_ for nearly eight years. Although I am not at liberty to divulge the highly classified nature or outcome of our many missions in service of the New Republic, we have not merely been ‘floating around,’ as Lieutenant Dameron put it.”

“Just over six months ago, shortly before your Resistance attack on Exegol, Commander Muran,” here the Admiral nodded at Muran, who straightened and managed to wipe his usual smirk mostly off his face, “-discovered one of the First Order’s Stormtrooper training facilities. It is a large base orbiting an uninhabited planet, listed only as IOX-34917 on most Republic and Imperial maps, if it even appears at all.”

A holographic image of the planet appeared, and Poe found himself without breath, leaning forward in his seat. It was small, a pale celadon color, covered in pockmarked craters, with an enormous ravine that wove in a meandering diagonal line across nearly the entire surface. The base orbiting around the thin layer of ozone was massive: wheel-shaped, with multiple levels and radiating spokes, “--and a docking bay large enough to accommodate a Star Destroyer,” the Admiral was describing aloud.

“Wait, wait,” Poe blurted out. “This is where they keep the kids? The kids they steal for the Stormtroopers? They’re _here_?” 

“Mr. Finn, is it possible you recognize this particular installation?” the Admiral asked, without acknowledging Poe’s interjection.

“Yeah,” Finn said in a strange voice, and Poe turned in his seat to look at him. “Yeah, I recognize it.”

“Does the First Order have multiple training facilities?” asked the Admiral.

“Yes,” said Finn. 

“Do they all look the same? And by that I mean, are they all built on the same model?” he pressed further.

“Yeah. I mean, as far as I know. All the ones I saw were the same.” Finn swallowed. “But I recognize the planet.” And, after a pause, “We did terrain drills in the ravine.”

“This is the only training base we’ve found so far, though we have been searching for some time.” Vancil paused, glancing over at Poe so briefly that he nearly missed it, and then returned his attention to the holograph. “We had intended to infiltrate and decommission this station as soon as our initial surveillance efforts were completed. However, those operations were paused to join the Resistance fleet at Exegol.”

Poe was even more shocked. “Wait. You _were_ at Exegol?”

Muran refused to look at him, and the Admiral answered instead, “Twenty-five pilots were sent to aid the civilian fleet. Twenty-five out of 14,000 may seem like an insignificant number, but we did have two squadrons engaged in other covert missions at the time that could not easily be extracted.”

For a moment, Poe thought it might actually be nice to consult with Finn about whatever the Force was showing him about his own emotions, as he certainly couldn’t keep track of the multiple levels of discomfort, uncertainty, and now a very small grain of willingness to trust, broiling around in his empty stomach.

“Now, for the mission at hand,” said Vancil, nodding at Muran. “This is Gido Foss.”

The holograph of the training base disappeared, and in its place was a holograph of a young, smiling boy with white-blond curls and bright blue eyes. He was approximately eight months old, dressed in a handsome pink tunic with colorful embroidery around the neck and collar, beaming charmingly at the camera as he clutched some sort of soft, cuddly toy in his arms. Poe suddenly felt very cold. 

“This holograph was taken two years ago, shortly before he was stolen by the First Order on Yasne.”

“Gido Foss, as in Rear-Admiral Endral Foss?” asked Thierssen from the back of the room, the only person who had foregone an uncomfortable chair.

“Yes, Commander,” Vancil nodded. “This is her youngest child.”

Poe glanced back, briefly, at Finn, but his face was impassive. 

“After an extensive search, we collected sufficient information to believe he was being held at the facility orbiting IOX-34917. But since Exegol and the collapse of the First Order leadership, we have managed to enter into negotiations with new representatives of the First Order to secure Gido’s release from their Stormtrooper program. Early this morning, we finalized the terms of the agreement.”

“Case of ration bars and a helmet?” Poe offered, and wasn’t entirely happy to see Muran hide a laugh.

“This is Nama Lorus,” said the Admiral, and a holograph of a snub-nosed teenager with warm, golden-brown skin, a generous dusting of dark freckles, and dark hair that curled tightly, even cut as short as it was. She had an extremely sour expression and fierce green eyes. “She is the second daughter of Admiral Kriel Lorus of the First Order.”

“And they’re willing to trade an Admiral’s son for an Admiral’s daughter?” said Poe. “How generous. What about the other kids?”

“All in good time, Lieutenant,” said the Admiral. “The exchange of high-ranking prisoners would-”

“One kid?” Poe interrupted. “You don’t need all of us for a simple prisoner exchange.”

“I understood you to have undertaken a leadership role as a _General_ after the death of Leia Organa,” said the Admiral, peering at Poe over the bridge of his nose. “Surely you know that nothing about interactions with the First Order is simple. The fact that we’re having negotiations at all is miraculous.”

“What about the other kids?” Poe demanded. “How are we getting them out?”

“The mission,” the Admiral continued in a sharp tone, “is to exchange Foss for Lorus on the base orbiting IOX-34917 tomorrow morning at exactly 0900. The First Order will send representatives of their fleet, as will the Republic. I have chosen you.”

The holograph went dark, and a few more work lights came on.

“Lieutenant Dameron and Commander Muran will escort the _Millennium Falcon_ in our starfighters, and remain in orbit in case of a sudden attack,” said the Admiral. “The exchange itself will be made by Mr. Finn and-- my apologies, madam, I don’t entirely know how to appropriately address you,” Vancil looked at Rey.

“Rey’s fine,” she said.

“Master Skywalker,” Poe supplied. “Why them? Why not you?”

“They’re putting on a show,” said Finn in a tight voice. “The former General of the Resistance, the last Jedi, and an ex-Stormtrooper, all there for the Republic after it was supposedly destroyed. We’re the threat to show them what they’re up against, right? That we’ve joined forces? Maybe get them to think twice about hitting the Republic again.”

“I think we can all agree that neither the Resistance nor the Republic has entirely succeeded in its long-term planning for dealing with the First Order,” said Vancil. “The Republic was too cautious; that is a mistake I hope not to repeat in the Resurrected Republic, at least so long as I command this ship. The Resistance deployed more, shall we say, smash-and-grab approaches that led to-”

“The complete destruction of the Exegol fleet?” Poe snapped. “We destroyed Starkiller. You’re welcome. _What about the other kids_?”

“Mr. Finn, exactly how many cadets would be in training on a base like IOX-34917?” the Admiral looked at Finn.

“I don’t know,” said Finn. “Maybe 10,000? Could be as many as 15,000.”

“What are the ages of the cadets on this particular facility?”

Finn frowned. “There’s not just...it’s all different levels. The creche, that’s the babies, all the way up to Level 8, which is 15, 16 years old.”

“And how many support staff?”

“Another 1,000? Maybe more? Again, I don’t know.”

The Admiral turned a reproachful, scolding eye on Poe. “Exactly how would you propose we evacuate 10,000 children from a heavily armed, heavily fortified base in First Order territory? One that is guarded both by trained officers and older cadets with years of indoctrination? Without a bloodbath? I share your loathing for the First Order, Lieutenant Dameron, but the way to save the children is not to fly in with guns blazing.”

“A negotiated peace,” Poe spat bitterly. “Has that ever worked before?”

“A first step,” said the Admiral. “Those are your orders, Lieutenant.”

There was a brief silence while Poe swallowed down any further objections, refusing to look at Muran, who still seemed to be refusing to look at him.

“Um, what about us?” Pava raised her hand. 

“Insurance,” said the Admiral, with eyes flashing. “Surely you don’t think I’m stupid enough to _trust_ that this prisoner exchange will be simple.”

The room was quiet, again. Poe thought the briefing was over, waiting to be dismissed, but then Muran cleared his throat again. 

“Ah yes,” said Vancil, waving behind him. “I do realize I don’t have the authority to order either of you anywhere,” he nodded first at Finn, and then at Rey. “I am humbly requesting your assistance in this rescue. I know it may seem like a small act, perhaps even a pointless act, when so many are still trapped. But returning even one child to his loving parents is-”

“I’ll do it,” Finn interrupted.

“I’ll help you,” said Rey.

***

“Holy shit!” Poe couldn’t stop himself from shouting when they entered the hangar. The rows upon rows of gray, blue-trimmed X-wings were shining, perfectly detailed, without a scratch of wear. 

“Holy shit, holy shit, what is this?” He took off for the nearest X-wing at a full run, startling a few techs into holding their wrenches defensively as possible weapons. “Is this the MG7-B or did they update the launcher? How did they compensate for the-- Oh, damn, look, they ran it through the--.” He laughed again. “This is amazing, I didn’t know they were-- What _model_ is this?”

Muran was laughing, running after him to catch up. “It’s a T-90, Spicy. Check out the fusial engines. Should be rolling out to the rest of the fleet next year, but like I told you, we get to test it all out first.”

“You’re shitting me.” Poe felt his eyes going wide, and he ducked into the hatch. “Pava!” he hollered, nose-deep in wires and breathing so deeply into the scent of oil and engine grease he felt light-headed. “You gotta see this! What have I been saying? What have I been saying for five goddamn years? You gotta customize the flash suppressors, not tear them out entirely!”

“Someone tell Finn he has competition,” said Pava, though she, too, was looking appreciatively at the sleek design of the new X-wing. “Poe’s gonna leave us all for this ship.”

“Nah, I don’t sleep with women,” said Poe, and Muran laughed.

"Hmm, but I do!" she said cheerfully, ducking under the ship to examine the landing gear.

Poe inspected every centimeter of the ship, trading specs and details with Muran, haranguing a nearby tech to explain the changes in the propulsar system, and he could feel his pilots fading in the background, as Pava drifted back to the uneasy circle with Karé and Thierssen, feel the pull of the exhaustion and anxiety of the past several hours and the impending promise of more, but he couldn’t stop. Couldn’t stop, kept asking questions, kept climbing in and out of the cockpit, testing out the control stick, listening to the engine heat and power down, yelling down at Muran to test something under the hatch, drawing more techs out to see what the commotion was, hearing them describe every single weakness they were tuning out of the engine, until he finally slid down the ladder and stood back a pace or two to catch his breath. “Damn,” he said, shaking his head at the ship. “I-- Damn. I missed this so much.”

< _The astromech socket has been fully integrated into the Sightline,_ > BB-8 beeped as he rolled up from inspecting the back of the ship.

“Really? I wonder how they did it. I’ve been trying to fix that issue for years,” said Poe, crouching down to give his dome a scritch. 

Muran thanked a tech on the other side of the ship, then trailed his long fingers along the nose as he slinked around to rejoin Poe. “So I’m hearing you’re pleased?”

“This ship is incredible.”

Muran grinned. “Want to take her up?”

Poe hadn’t thought he could get any more excited. He was wrong. “Really? Right now?”

“What, you think we’re sending you into battle after six months on the bench without any sort of tryout? Maybe you’ve lost it.”

Poe laughed. “Oh, fuck you, buddy.”

“We can get the flight instructor over here, take you through your pitch and yaw like a little baby pilot. Maybe pull out the training cables.”

“You’re such an asshole.” Poe was bouncing on his toes now.

“You know, these are pricey machines, top of the line, can’t trust them to just any backwater jungle-cave yokel who thinks he can fly-”

“Get me a helmet, you bastard,” said Poe. His cheeks were hurting from grinning, and he turned to find Finn standing with the other pilots, watching the commotion with a serious, somewhat sad expression on his face that Poe barely registered before leaping at him. “I’m gonna fly!” he shouted, beaming. “You’ll be watching, right?”

“Course,” said Finn, smiling a little now. “It’s why I came all the way out here.”

Poe laughed. “Yup, this was the plan all along. Okay, back in a flash,” as he kissed Finn’s cheek. Then, feeling sly and bold, feeling a sudden rush of possessiveness, an immediate need to reassure and lay claims and do _something_ with all this energy, grabbed him by the front of his vest and kissed him deep on the mouth, using plenty of tongue, just to feel Finn tense and then _respond_ , his stomach barrel-rolling at how Finn’s tongue lapped against his. He was grinning against Finn's lips as Pava cheered and Karé groaned, and did a little twirl as he stepped back and nearly fell into Muran, who was holding out a helmet for him: steel gray, sleek and metallic. 

“You can get into uniform later,” said Muran as Poe snapped on the helmet and raced up the ladder.

“Finn!” Poe shouted as he dropped into the cockpit, just before the hatch closed. “Go watch from the bridge, I’m gonna write your name in the exhaust.” He grinned and gave him a thumbs up.

Finn shook his head, a small smile lingering, and returned the gesture as he and the other pilots stepped back to retrace their steps to the bridge.

“Ready, buddy?” Poe called back to BB-8. He felt like his entire body was electrified, fire and lightning racing through his veins, he could barely _sit still_ , he could barely keep himself from hopping and jumping in his seat as he flipped through his prechecks, and primes, final adjustments and double-checks. “Control, this is Lieutenant Dameron-”

“ _Call sign: Sabacc Sprite_ ,” Muran’s voice cut in over his headset.

“Shut up, Muran-- Control, am I clear for takeoff?”

“ _You are clear to depart, Lieutenant,_ ” said the peevish-sounding voice of the communications officer.

“Copy that.” Poe grinned, raised the X-wing off the landing pad, and then completely opened the throttle of the engine as he shot out of the hangar bay at full speed, whooping at the top of his lungs. BB-8 wailed a similar cheer, which turned into a true wail as Poe banked the ship at a sharp, nearly 90-degree turn to buzz the bridge.

“ _Spicy!_ ” Muran was laughing. “ _You’re scaring the techs. Half the bridge is ducking._ ”

Poe responded with more cheering, coming for another pass disturbingly near the viewing platform of the bridge before pulling back a league and attempting to roll the correct loops to scrawl ‘Finn’ out of the stars. “Holy shit, this bird can move. Whoo!”

Muran was still laughing. “ _Stop writing ‘I am a sex god’ in front of the Admiral, Spicy. Inappropriate._ ”

“It clearly says ‘blow me,’ Muran, can’t you read? Hi Control!”

“ _Lieutenant Dameron, we are initiating the standard practice protocol, please stick to the flight path_ ,” said Control, clearly irritated.

“I’m in trouble again.”

“ _Call-sign: Trouble Tenor._ ”

“I think I’m a baritone.”

“ _You’re tone-deaf, is what you are_.”

“ _Can you handle the curves, can you hit all the lights,_ ” Poe sang loudly, following Muran’s ship to the set of blinking lights that indicated the start of the practice run. “ _If you can, baby boy, then we can go all night._ ”

“ _Cause it’s zero to light speed in 3.5_ ,” Muran sang along, in his deep, silky voice (damn him). Then, surprisingly businesslike, “ _Your form’s gotten sloppy, Dameron, sharpen up that port wing._ ”

“I don’t take orders from ghosts,” said Poe.

“ _The way I hear it, you don’t take orders from anyone_.”

“I’m a little rusty on that part,” said Poe, trying to keep the flash of anger stilled at anything that reminded him too much of his past mistakes. “But since when are you Mr. Loyalty?”

“ _You really want to talk about that now?_ ”

“No, I want to fly this ship,” said Poe, coming to rest between the blinking pylons that signaled the start of the run. “You ready?”

“ _I was born ready, Danger Beetle._ ”

“Try to keep up, then,” said Poe, and he punched forward. The first half of the course was a basic agility test, and he soon found himself cheering again at the way the ship banked and rolled, and then Muran was tucking in close beside him, too close, always flying much too close, _the way he used to, when we--stop_.

“ _Tag_ ,” said Muran.

Poe laughed, and just as they passed the pylons signaling the end of the agility section, he cut the engine, drifting up and over Muran’s ship as it shot into the space he had just vacated, then edging forward again to take pace a hair’s breadth from Muran’s port wing, mirroring their previous positions.

“ _Oh, you are a bad man,_ ” said Muran, though it was a little hard to hear over Poe’s whooping.

“What was that?” Poe laughed again. “Excuse me, sir, I’m about to smoke some TIEs. You should probably take notes.” Passing the second set of pylons, the auto-targets activating, Muran’s ship fell back again to give him a clear view, and then Poe was channeling every bit of frustration and fear and anger and _utter kriffing uselessness_ he’d been storing in his itchy knuckles to hit every single target, banking left, rolling right, Muran spiraling around him like they were two halves of one symbiotic ship, _the way they used to. The way they fucking used to-_

“ _Nice shot_ ,” said Muran.

“A compliment? I’m all ears, buddy.”

“ _You mean all nose?_ ”

“Hm, fightin’ words from someone who hasn’t seen his chin in seven years,” said Poe, hitting another target, almost on instinct, barely feeling the stick under his hands. “Also, fuck you.”

“ _Language, Lieutenant._ ”

“You know you missed this fine color commentary.” Another target. Another bank. 

“ _Hm, not sure your little Baby-Face wants to hear that_ .” Muran darted ahead of him to hit the last target just before he did, and Poe swore. “ _Seriously, what is he, 20? Should I report you to the child welfare agency?_ ”

Poe did not want to talk about Finn with Muran right now, rolling again, just missing a graze of their s-foils, one last spiral before they straightened their ships and circled around in perfect formation. “How’s your mom? Does she know you’re not dead?”

“ _She’s fine, she moved to Naboo. Still asks about you. How’s Kes?_ ”

“You’re such a liar,” ignoring the question about his father entirely.

“ _You’re right. She joined the road crew for the Y-Waits. I think they’re touring Coruscant right now.”_

“Such a goddamn fucking liar.”

“ _Lieutenant, if you’ve finished your run, perhaps we can clear the channel for the active duty?_ ” Control interjected crisply.

Poe felt his face fall. “I can’t run it again?”

“ _Tomorrow, Spicy. We’ll give you a second run-through before we launch. I promise_ ,” said Muran.

“You should probably not use that particular word around me,” said Poe with a bitter laugh, already feeling the twitching return to his hands. “Seeing as how your promises are worth exactly their weight in bantha shit.”

“ _Please cut the chatter, Lieutenant Dameron, and return to Hangar Bay 6_ ,” instructed Control with an air of finality.

“Copy,” said Poe, and he let out a sigh, slumping back in his seat.

Muran kept quiet, as ordered, and Poe didn’t say anything to goad him further as he flew the ship into the requested hangar bay without any more antics. As he landed, he saw Finn standing near the back of the hangar talking intensely with Rey, and tried to brighten up. But mostly, he felt suddenly dead on his feet, completely drained, emotionally, physically, the come-down from his flight high dropping him into the sub-basement of numbness and exhaustion. It was hard to find the coordination to unclip his restraint harness.

“Hey!” he faked cheerfulness, climbing heavily down the ladder and shuffled toward Finn and Rey on wobbling feet. “Didja see?” 

Rey looked at Finn for the first response, but Finn merely gave Poe that same thin smile he was wearing earlier. “You flew wonderfully!” said Rey. “How did you like the ship?”

“It’s amazing,” said Poe, trying to smile at Finn but was interrupted by a yawn. “Stars, it felt good to fly. What time is it, anyway?”

“Ship chrono says 1530,” said Finn, looking at the wall overhead. “But I think it’s probably tomorrow morning on Ganthel by now. Jess and the others went to get fitted for their flight suits, you’re supposed to meet up with them.”

“The fun never stops,” said Poe, rubbing his eyes and letting himself sway into Finn, leaning onto his shoulder. “I guess I got a nap earlier.” That seemed like days ago.

Finn looked down at him. After a brief hesitation, he shifted to square his hips, locking himself against Poe’s weight, and Poe leaned into him further, resting his head on Finn's shoulder. He slid a light hand down Finn's arm to gently hold his hand.

“Mmm.” Poe yawned again. "Guess I’ll get some caf. Wanna come?” he looked up, again trying to catch Finn’s eyes, giving him a dopey smile. _Kriff, he is so beautiful._ Flying and Finn.

Finn's expression was unreadable, but his eyes had a distant look to them, a little sad. Poe first assumed it was the weight of the recent briefing, memories of a soldier’s childhood, or even the way Finn handled exhaustion (he remembered that, now, how Finn’s natural stoicism-- _was that even natural? Or was that learned through decades of training in those complexes?_ \--increased as he funneled all his remaining energy to keeping one foot moving in front of the other), but then he faltered and realized this was the first quiet moment they'd had together since walking into Karé's apartment. 

"I guess we should probably talk," he said, trying to rally his courage and quell his anxiety. "You, uh...you probably have questions, or…" he scratched the back of his head. "This is all pretty awkward, huh?"

"Yeah, a little," said Finn. "...I was on my way to the armory."

"Okay." Poe glanced at Rey, but she had already drifted a few feet away, pretending to be very interested in the collection of shining compressor parts spread out on workbenches at the back of the hangar. "I don't know when we'll have time to-- Is there something specific you want to know? Or should I just...um, the whole story's kind of long." 

"What did you ask him?"

"Huh?" 

"Back in Jess's apartment, he was going on about you asking him something, and how he wasn't going to hold you to it."

"Oh," said Poe. He shifted back a pace, standing unsteadily on his own two feet, and withdrew his hands to scratch over his knuckles. _Great. Thanks, Muran. Thanks a lot._ "We, uh...we had sort of agreed to get married."

"Married?" Finn's eyebrows furrowed a little.

"Yeah."

"You asked him to marry you?"

"Well...yeah, kind of. It was more like--" _Worst. Second. Date. Ever._ "Look, it was-- it's complicated."

"Well, yeah, you thought he died "

"Not just that," said Poe. "Us, him and me, we--it wasn't…" A large sigh, another rake through his hair, his knuckles wouldn't stop itching. "But it doesn't matter. We're over, Finn. I mean, you have absolutely nothing to worry about. I-- you and me, that's what I-"

"Maybe we should do this later," said Finn, setting his jaw and tucking his hands in his pockets as three Republic officers passed them closely.

“Okay. Or I could come with you?” Poe asked, trying not to sound desperate and clingy and knowing he was probably failing. “Are you supposed to wear a Republic uniform? I can help you out of these clothes, at least.” He tried to wink, though it was a little slow given how tired he felt. 

Finn smiled at him, but again, it didn’t reach his eyes. “Later. I think...I think there’s something I need to do. On my own. Okay?”

“Of course,” said Poe. He leaned forward to kiss his shoulder, then straightened up. “See you at dinner? They’ll have to feed us eventually.”

“Sure,” said Finn. He slipped out of Poe’s reach without further comment (and without a return kiss), and strode off in the opposite direction, out of the hangar.

Poe tilted his head, watching him walk away, still feeling a little unsteady. ( _You blew it. He’s changing his mind, he doesn't want-- stop._ ) “Is he okay?” he asked Rey, watching Finn walk away. 

She gave him a furtive look, then followed his gaze back at Finn. “He’s got a lot to think about,” she said finally.

“Yeah, no kidding,” said Poe. “Want to get some caf? Or did you need to do something?”

Rey smiled, warm and comforting. “Caf would be lovely, Poe.” She linked an arm in his and led him in the opposite direction from Finn, BB-8 trailing behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Credit for the (modified) lyrics in the flight test scene is to Rihanna.


	6. Chapter 6

“Where’s Chewie?” Poe asked, scanning the hangar full of specialized X-wings, shiny metallic droids, dozens of personnel in perfectly pressed gray and black uniforms. The busyness and purpose felt so familiar that he ached a little with nostalgia, though the crispness and glossy neatness still reminded him a bit more of a First Order Star Destroyer than the comfortable camaraderie of the _Raddus_.

Rey lightly wrapped her other hand around Poe’s forearm, linked like he was escorting her to an elegant gathering and not the ship’s mess. “Fixing the shield generator on the _Falcon_. It’s been a bit dodgy lately, perhaps the porgs have got into it again.”

“That ship’s a menace.”

“Oh, like you don’t miss it every day,” said Rey.

Poe laughed. “I do miss it. I missed this. I missed you. I miss all of it.”

“I know,” she nodded. “I do too, sometimes. Though I also sometimes wonder how I ended up all the way out here, again.”

“Uh, I think you volunteered to help me?” Poe smirked down at her.

“Mm, really I volunteered to help Finn and Jess. Oh, and also you,” she teased. “But you know what I meant. Out here, walking into the mouth of the First Order, again.”

“What else would we be doing? Selling stolen speeder parts on Bespin or something, like normal people?” Poe rolled his eyes. “Boring.”

She laughed. “True, true. I suppose I’d still be pulling Imperial junk out of the sand.” 

< _I would perhaps be paired with a less reckless pilot_ ,> said BB-8.

Poe grinned. “And you’d be bored out of your little circuits, buddy.”

< _Affirmative._ >

They found the mess, sparsely populated in the mid-afternoon but with kitchen bustle and cooking smells promising the upcoming dinner rush. Poe poured them each a cup of caf and they settled quietly into a small table in the corner, curled over the rising steam, BB-8 at their feet. Poe was feeling unbearably sleepy again, and he took a large gulp before it had fully cooled. At least the burning on the back of his tongue helped sharpen his senses a little. “Rey?”

“Hm?” she asked, meeting his eyes with one of her most intense stares - the one that always made him feel examined, overly understood, _known_ , and it was not necessarily a comfortable feeling. 

“Did you--” Poe looked down at the table. It was nearly impossible to ask this question with her looking at him like that. “Did you know? How--How I felt about him?”

“I didn’t know _definitively_ ,” said Rey, hovering her cup near her mouth and inhaling the steam. “But I suspected there were feelings. You know, nearly everyone did.”

“Pava isn’t everyone,” said Poe, chewing on his lower lip. And then, “Did you know how he felt about you?”

“In the same way,” she said. “Though different. You’re different people.”

Poe considered that a little while, mentally arguing with himself whether to ask the question he _really_ wanted to ask. “Did you...Did you ever get the thought that he-- um, that he felt-- I mean, about me?”

Rey’s eyes filled with pity, and Poe nearly launched himself out of the seat to flee from them. “You are, and have been, one of the most important people in his life, Poe.” She put the cup down, and reached over to pat his hand. “Do you know how happy he was, when he arrived on Kamparas after seeing you?”

Poe pulled his hands away, folding them around himself and scratching one arm. “No. I mean, that’s good, but I--”

“He was _very happy_ ,” she said emphatically. “And I was very happy. I’m very happy for both of you.”

“I want to make him happy,” he said, with resolve, but that determined feeling faded almost instantly. “But you really didn’t--” he stopped himself again, then took another breath and tried again. “I mean, you didn’t...um...you didn’t let him down just because of me, did you?”

“No, of course not.” Rey tilted her head. “Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know,” Poe shrugged. He drummed his fingers absently on his knees, that twitchy feeling in his knuckles back again. “I guess I-- um...” he pulled his hands back around his stomach.

Rey watched him fidget for a little while, sitting perfectly still. “I have a different path,” she said finally. “Finn was the first person in the world to really care about me. Yes, except you, BeeBee-Ate,” smiling down at the droid before he could interject. “And I feel it’s the same with me for him. That’s...I treasure that. I truly do. But as for something romantic...” she trailed off, and gave a small, imperceptible shrug.

“You don’t have to be like Luke, if you don’t want to be,” said Poe. “Monastic, or-- or whatever.”

Rey tilted her head again. “Are you trying to convince me to take him from you?”

“No,” Poe said immediately. ( _Mine. Your loss, no take-backs, mine_.) “No, I just…” he sighed. “I don’t know. I know you can pretty much cut me in half if I hurt him, so I guess I-- and I want to make him happy, I really do, but-- but I want you to be happy, too,” he decided on finally, not really sure what he had even been trying to say.

She smiled. “There’s lots of ways to be happy. Or, well, I don’t think I ever had the luxury of expecting to be happy.” After a pause, she added, “I still don’t.”

Poe considered that for a while, aimlessly twisting the ring on the chain under his shirt. “I don’t seem to be able to stop trying to think of ways to be happier. Even when I know it’s pointless, that-- For this all to be better, for everyone. New ways to get it done, keep trying something until it leads to something else. And when that blows up, try something over here. Even when I know I shouldn’t.”

“I think you’re the perfect example of someone who doesn’t know when to quit,” said Rey. “For better or for worse.”

“Usually for worse,” he groaned, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. “But I guess I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It was certainly good for the Resistance,” she said. “And it makes you a great pilot.”

“I am a great pilot,” he said with a smirk, and then he dropped the ring back under his shirt and leaned forward to tap her on the wrist. “And so are you.”

“I mean, a great fighter pilot,” she said. “I can pilot the _Falcon_ , sure, but not a firefight in your X-wing. I’m not sure I could do what you did today, Poe. That was…” she grinned. “That was great fun.”

He grinned back. He had no doubt that Rey could probably fly circles around him, but it was kind of her to pretend otherwise. “It was. It really was. Kriff, I missed it so much. Almost as much as I missed-- Well, you know.”

“I do,” she nodded, still smiling at him. Then a shadow passed her face, and now she was the one hesitating to speak. “Finn did tell you, didn’t he? About…”

“Yeah,” said Poe, his throat suddenly dry. He took another large gulp of caf. “Yeah, he told me.”

“He was quite worried about how you’d react,” she said. 

“Why?” Poe frowned. “It wasn’t really a surprise. I knew he was-” _special, miraculous, amazing_ , “Force-sensitive already.”

“You’ve just never seemed entirely comfortable with Force-users,” said Rey.

Poe coughed out a rough laugh. “I guess you could say that. I sort of think it’s healthy to be a little cautious around people who can read minds and pull blasters out of the air.”

“I suppose,” she said. “Though I rather thought people had a healthy amount of caution around me even before all that.”

“Carefully cultivated bad-assery,” said Poe. “It suits you.”

Rey smiled, though it froze before fully forming. “About the blaster…”

“Yeah, that was the first time he’d done that, wasn’t it?” Poe leaned forward a little, lowering his voice. “He told me...he told me that he still couldn’t-”

“Yes,” said Rey. “Yes, it was.”

“Does that mean…” Poe wasn’t sure how to proceed. “I guess it means he’s really going to be a Jedi now, huh?”

“Well, that’s up to him,” said Rey. 

“Is it? He’s got the Force. He can do this stuff. He probably shouldn’t just let it-- I don’t know, let it build up without learning how to control it,” said Poe. “Doesn’t all that lead to the Dark Side? Wasn’t that why the Old Jedi took little kids in the first place? To keep them from going out of control with power they didn’t know how to use?”

“That was one of the purported reasons,” Rey nodded.

“And the other was to keep them from...forming relationships,” said Poe. _Calm. Stay calm._ “Romantic relationships, outside the Jedi Order. Right?”

“You might know better than me,” Rey shrugged. “I didn’t exactly have a formal education in galactic history. All I have are some ancient texts and the holonet.”

Poe drained his cup, considering whether to get another one. 

“I do know…” Rey started, shifting her shoulders as she considered her words. “I do know that relationships were what ultimately saved two Dark Jedi, in the end. Not necessarily romantic relationships. But human bonds, connections. They’re far more important than I think anyone is inclined to give credit, including me.”

He almost kept it inside, almost kept it on the back of his tongue, but it slipped out anyway. “Not me.”

Rey smiled. “Yes, I think that’s true.”

“So is he going to have to choose?” Poe asked. “I don’t want him to have to-- between me and his future, or-- or his destiny. I don’t want to put him in that position.” _Do I even have the right to hope he'd choose me? How would that be fair, or right, or good? Is it even really an option?_

“Well, not at this exact minute,” said Rey. 

“But eventually?” _Do I back away now? I don’t want to. He’d be angry if I did, it’d be like I was choosing for him. I just promised not to hurt him. But if I’m going to lose him, better to do it now. Is it though? Do you really want to give up any time with him, even if you know how it’s going to end? (Was there ever another option, for how it’s going to end? Did you really ever think that you’d get a-- Stop.)_

“Possibly,” she said. “Leia did, after all. As did Luke. And Vader. And...and Ben. But we all have to make choices, Poe. I think at some point, everyone has to choose between people and purpose. Not that it's impossible for them to work together, and sometimes people and purpose are the same choice. But there often seems to be a time when they can't be. I can't tell you when that will be for Finn. It may never come."

Poe slumped a little in his seat. Leia had chosen her family over her Jedi training, and it had only turned to loss and ashes in the end. Luke’s sacrifice had led to the survival of the Resistance (of Poe, of Finn, of Leia), but he still died alone on an island in the sea. He tried to think of all the Jedi stories he’d ever heard and whether any of them had seen a happy ending. Then again, maybe that was how they ended up in stories: tragedy and sacrifice, cycles of pain in exchange for mystic power. ‘The Jedi who lived happily and contentedly and died in his sleep’ wasn’t much of a story. _And since when have you wanted to die in your sleep?_

He sighed, and scratched over his knuckles. “No offense, Rey, but I’m glad I don’t have it. The Force, I mean.”

Rey laughed a little, one of her rarest sounds. “What makes you so sure you don’t?”

Poe gaped at her. “What do you mean?”

“There you are!” boomed Muran at the doorway to the mess. “Come on, Spicy, you need a uniform and a flight suit, let’s get moving.”

***

Finn prowled the lower decks.

He fully expected to be stopped at any moment; expected to be halted, asked for identification, questioned, even threatened. He did not belong here. But perhaps one of the weaknesses of a ship in uncharted space, where only authorized personnel were allowed coordinates to locate it, was that anyone on the ship was assumed to be permitted access to its decks. And Finn had learned long ago that walking with confidence could get you pretty far. 

Still, it took some time to weave his way through the cruiser. He had no knowledge of its layout. He couldn’t ask for directions. He just followed his instincts, his nose (or, as he knew it really was, the Force). 

He had first stopped at the armory and picked out a hefty rifle. It barely fit in a thigh-holster, but it felt steady in his hands, close to the standard-issue blaster he’d trained with for most of his life. Then he was given the basic uniform of an enlisted Republic soldier: dark khaki pants, blue shirt, black vest. No insignia. He refused the helmet, and tucked the new uniform under his arm. But instead of target practice, or meditation, or rejoining the group, or finding Poe, he set off into the belly of the ship looking for the holding cells. Grateful for a quest, really; something to avoid thinking about other things.

He finally stumbled across them near the engines, a steady humming reverberating off the walls and buzzing through the soles of his boots. There was a single guard at the control panel, who was startled and wary the moment he walked in the room, clearly unused to visitors. “You lost, Private?”

“No,” said Finn. “I’m here to see Nama Lorus.”

The guard stared at him for a moment, and then laughed. “Kriff, did Yayalinski put you up to this? She’s trouble, man. Take my advice and steer clear, no matter how many iridescent eyelashes she flutters at you.”

“I’m here to see Nama Lorus,” Finn repeated. 

“She’s not authorized for visitors,” said the guard.

“I’m not a visitor,” said Finn.

“Look, I haven’t gotten any authorization codes for that prisoner,” said the guard, straightening up and resting a hand on the hilt of his blaster. “And you don’t look like an interrogator.”

“Commander Muran sent me,” said Finn.

“I haven’t got any authorization codes,” the guard repeated. 

“Comm him and ask,” Finn shrugged. He unholstered his blaster and handed it, butt-first, to the guard. “I mean, he’s kind of busy preparing for the mission tomorrow, which is why he sent me, but you go ahead.”

The guard accepted the rifle gingerly, looking down at it and then back up to Finn’s face. Finn didn't think he was using Force-persuasion (he hadn't issued a command, after all), but it was still unnerving to feel so calm and so certain that he would be given what he wanted.

“Five minutes,” the guard said reluctantly, turning to the control panel. “She’s in room eighteen.”

“Thanks,” said Finn, scuffling down the long hallway of closed, locked, windowless doors. He paused outside room eighteen, just barely in view of the control panel, and looked back at the guard expectantly. The door slid open and he stepped inside; it slid closed and locked behind him.

A Republic holding cell was twice as large as any he’d seen in the First Order. The walls were soft white; still a bit too bright for comfort, but the lights weren’t blinding. There was a small bed, a chair and table, a stack of datapads. It was bare and unadorned, but not austere. 

“Who’re you?” Nama Lorus was lying on the bed, datapad in hand. She was wearing comfortable-looking blue pajamas and fuzzy socks, her curly hair flowing wildly around her head much the same way Finn's did when he had gone too long between haircuts. She didn’t bother to look up. “What do you want now?”

“I’m Finn,” he said, crossing the room to pull the chair away from the table and up against the wall.

Nama rolled her eyes. “They already tried the nice-guy deal.” An enormous, exaggerated sigh. She tossed the datapad against the wall, where it promptly slid behind the bed and clattered to the floor. “Look, I don’t know how many more times I can tell you dimwits. I don’t know about the new ships. I don’t know about the current ships. I don’t know where anyone else is either. I’ve never heard of Gido Foss, and I don’t care. Blah blah, my father, blah.” She flopped back on the pillow and picked at her cuticles.

“I’m Finn,” he repeated, leaning back in his chair. “My designation used to be FN-2187.”

Nama raised one eyebrow, glancing over at him. “Okay? Good for you?” And then, after another moment examining her nails, she suddenly groaned loudly, splaying her hands out and rolling her eyes back even further. “Oh _Force_ , are you guys really that stupid? I don’t care if you used to be a Stormtrooper. Why would I care about a stupid Stormtrooper? There’s a million of them. Congratulations, you left the First Order and now you’re happy and free in the Republic, and it’s not evil, and everyone is perfect.” If she had another datapad, she clearly would have thrown it (or anything else handy) at Finn. “Give it up already.”

“I’m not with the Republic,” said Finn.

“Right, okay,” with sarcastic disbelief. “Who’re you with, then?”

“No one,” said Finn. “I used to be with the Resistance, but that’s over now.”

“The Resistance?” she wrinkled her nose. “Why are you on a Republic ship if you’re not with the Republic?”

“My boyfriend is a pilot.”

Nama snorted. “A Stormtrooper with a boyfriend? Yech. I thought you guys were all castrated?”

Finn laughed; he couldn’t help it. “Uh, no. No, that’s not true.”

“Whatever. I don’t care,” she said, huffing back down onto the pillow (to hide her blush, Finn suspected). And then, a grumbling addendum, “Hope your boyfriend’s ship crashes.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Finn shrugged. “How long have you been a prisoner here?”

“Couple months.”

“Have you been on this ship the whole time?”

“Yeah.”

“Are they treating you well?” He took another glance around the room. “It’s not too cold in here, and you have stuff to read.”

“What do you care?”

“Old suspicions die hard, I guess,” said Finn. “I don’t like seeing kids in prison cells.”

She sat up straight at that, crossing her legs underneath her. “I’m not a kid!”

“How old are you?”

“Fourteen.”

Finn chuckled. “You’re a kid. It’s okay, lots of people still treat me like a kid, too.”

Nama narrowed her eyes. “How old are you?”

“I don’t know,” said Finn.

“Can’t count?” A smirk.

“Got to have a start date to count from,” Finn shrugged. “Best guess is that I’m 25. Do you know your birthday?”

“...is that, like, a trick question?” Nama tilted her head. 

“No, it’s a real question,” said Finn.

“Yeah, I know my birthday,” she said. “Did they not find yours, when your parents died?”

“When what?”

“When your parents died,” she repeated. And then she pursed her lips. “Sorry, are you going to get all sad about it?”

“No,” said Finn. “I never knew them. They might not be dead, though. Lots of us just got taken away.”

“Doesn’t it suck to have everyone pity you all the time?” she said. “Oh boo hoo, poor Stormtrooper. Doesn’t have a family. Got taken from nothing and given everything. Oh wah wah, the First Order fixes your imperfections and evaluates your special skills and talents and nurtures them toward the goal of peace and order.” 

She leaned forward, talking animatedly now. “You know, nobody here has been able to make a single coherent argument for why their stupid Senate is any better than the High Command? All they do is talk, talk, talk! They tried to make me watch some debate,” she was rambling now. Finn knew that kind of ramble. It was the kind of ramble Poe would stumble into after spending hours in his X-wing cockpit in a jump tunnel, alone with his thoughts, pouring them out like a bucket full of water to whoever would listen (Finn, usually Finn, always Finn) the moment he came home to base and saw a friendly face. “It was so boring, and inefficient. One speech after another, everyone trying to sound smarter and saying absolutely _nothing_ but what they thought people wanted to hear. And they were all so proud of themselves! Like if I just _saw_ how stupid they were I’d suddenly think, oh wow, democracy! Now _everyone_ can be ignored and talked over, instead of just the stupid people with the worst ideas! And if the people _want_ to hear the stupid ideas from stupid people, oh boy, that’s what we’ll do! Even if it’s stupid! If we had given them a warning about Starkiller, they’d probably just have argued about what to do until the blast hit them.”

Despite the obvious flaws in this argument (Hux was one of the worst tacticians Finn had ever encountered, with excessively stupid ideas, and he was placed in a position of immense power by High Command and the Supreme Leader himself), Finn had to smirk at how much her frustration at the endless dithering mirrored his own impression of Senate politics. If he allowed himself a bit of dark humor, which he would never say out loud, he secretly thought she was right about how unlikely it was that the Senate would have been able to reach a compromise on how to react to Starkiller before the clock ran out. “Did you ever visit Starkiller?” asked Finn. “I know some of the officer cadets toured it.”

“Yeah, I saw it,” said Nama. “You?”

“Uh-huh,” Finn nodded. “I was stationed there for a while. So that means you were in officer school? I guess there probably wasn’t another option for an Admiral’s daughter.”

“I mean, you could flunk out and become a breeder, like my sister,” Nama said. “She’s married to some Colonel. He’s really ugly…”

Finn suppressed a laugh, but he couldn’t hold back the smile. “What was it like? Officer training, I mean.”

“Like? It was…” and then she groaned again. She straightened her back, that hint of friendliness in her eyes hardening again, and adopted a monotone voice, or as close to monotone as her unbridled irritation could muster, to recite, “We worked from old schematics. We recalculated old trajectories. They were internally circulating communications. They didn’t let us anywhere near the real archives until we proved we could not muck it up. _Stars,_ I’m so sick of being asked the same questions over and-”

“I’m not asking about the ships, or the tech,” said Finn. “I’m asking what it was like. Did you live with your family?”

“No?” she furrowed her eyebrows, again confused by the question. “Not during the term, no.”

“So there was a term? Like a term of study, where you’d be at officer school, and then you’d go somewhere else?”

“Yeah, we did a five month term and then a 7-day leave to go home, twice a year.”

“Home,” Finn repeated. That word still echoed in the empty places in his heart. “So you knew your parents?”

“Uh, yeah. Everyone knows my stupid parents,” said Nama. Then she rolled her eyes again. “Are you trying to find your parents? I wouldn’t know, duh. Neither would my father. Nobody cares. Who cares? Why would you care?” And then, with a toss of her wild hair, “You’re probably lucky not to have had to deal with it. It's not as great as the holovids make it seem.”

“Maybe,” said Finn. There wasn’t any point in getting angry at her callousness, or trying to frighten her with tales of their disparate treatment. That didn’t matter. He wasn’t surprised that she didn’t exactly seem receptive to whatever clumsy de-programming the Republic interrogators had apparently attempted since capturing her. And as much bravado as she was fronting, Finn could feel just how terrified she was: a dark brownish-black with flashes of orange, like molten rock. He hadn't expected to share trauma, and didn't want to burden her with his. He just wanted to meet her. He couldn’t say why, but that it seemed important. “How did you get captured?”

She scrunched back against the wall, crossing her arms and looking away. “None of your business.”

“Did you screw up or something?”

“No,” she said. “No, I did _not_ screw up.”

“Did you run away?”

“ _No_.” The insistence was vehement, but her colors flashed with guilt and shame. “Why would I run away?”

Again, Finn shrugged. “The food’s pretty bad? I’m guessing that yours was probably better than what they served the Troopers, but still.”

Nama thought about this for a moment. “It’s not that different from here. What did they serve the Troopers?”

“Basic rations. Bars, gels, dehydrated food squares," said Finn. “Vitamin-enhanced protein particulate.”

“...Ew.”

“I miss it sometimes,” said Finn. “Mealtimes, I mean. Not all the other stuff. But meals were predictable. Between you and me, sometimes it feels...overwhelming to have to choose things. You have to choose things all the time, when you’re out. All day. Constantly. And so you always have to decide what the best choice is, what’s going to screw it up, what’s going to get someone killed, what’s going to get _you_ killed. And then, when all you want to do is eat something, you still have to decide what’s going to taste good or what's got the right amount of nutrients. What tasted good yesterday, but doesn’t today because there’s a different Zeltron making it and they add way too much of that rock spice.”

Nama rested her chin on the ball of her hand, propped up on her knee. “Why are you here?”

“I don’t know,” Finn answered truthfully. “Maybe I wanted to hear what it might have been like, if I...if I had been born in the Order. If I wasn’t stolen for the Troopers, but part of an officer family.”

“If you’re trying to get me to feel sorry for you-”

“I’m not.”

“-it’s not going to work. I don’t care. I don’t care about you, or the Republic, or any of it.”

“Do you care about the First Order?”

Nama laughed again, and it was far darker and more cynical than Finn thought a young person’s laugh had any right to be. He’d heard that kind of laugh before. It was the only kind of laugh he’d ever heard Nines make. “I don’t care,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t care about any of it anymore.”

“So you’re not looking forward to going home tomorrow?”

Her eyes went very wide. “What?”

“You’re being exchanged tomorrow,” said Finn. “Hasn’t anyone told you?”

The terror increased suddenly; sharp, feverish, and wild. “Where? How?”

“On a Stormtrooper training base. They found Gido Foss, the Order is exchanging you for him,” said Finn.

She immediately started to fidget, teeth digging into the side of her cheek, knees jiggling cross-legged on the bed, staring at the door as though someone would come through any minute to drag her out. “I don’t care,” she shook her head. “No, I don’t care. It doesn’t matter anymore. None of it matters.”

“Why not?”

She looked at him, and her eyes were white and wide and wet. “Because I was dead meat walking around with a countdown chrono over my head the minute I was gone. And so were you. Might as well get it over with.” And she looked at her hands, wringing tightly in her lap. “There’s only ever one way to leave the First Order.”


	7. Chapter 7

Finn found the mess just in time to join the exhausted team in shoveling down a quiet, hurried meal as quickly as possible. He sat next to Poe, their shoulders pressed together and their knees brushing under the table, but barely exchanged more than a few pleasantries with the other pilots about selecting their weapons and comparing the medpacks of the Republic flight suits to their old Resistance kits. Everyone was tired. Everyone was nervous.

And then Poe and Finn were finally given quarters: a tiny room with a single set of bunk beds. Without saying a word, they immediately began to pull the mattresses and pillows and blankets off the bunks and arrange them next to each other on the floor to make a kind of sleeping nest, rather than trying to squeeze them both into one narrow bed with the low ceiling of the upper bunk. BB-8 rolled to a charging station in the corner and powered down immediately. Poe, too, was swaying on his feet, but instead of collapsing straight into bed, he turned and began helping Finn out of clothes. It was tender, but chaste; he didn’t touch him too closely, or offer any kisses. Finn did the same for Poe’s new black Republic uniform, stiff to the touch. 

Only once they were fully naked, fingertips touching bare skin, did Poe tilt his head up for a kiss, and there was a kind of sudden passion in it - needy, and desperate, and begging - that woke something deep in Finn he never knew existed. Within a few kisses, they were pressed together so close Finn could hardly breathe, raking skin under their fingertips, sharp teeth on soft lips, no pauses for air or thoughts, and Finn wanted to feel unnerved by the sudden intensity, by the urgency, by the promise of losing control, but he found himself incredibly aroused and, perhaps, a little desperate to prove something.

Suddenly, Poe stopped, and pulled back slightly. “Wait. Didn’t you want to talk? About-”

“No,” Finn growled, with hunger and need and fierceness, tightening his grip on Poe. “No, I don’t want to talk.”

He kissed Poe hard, and then pulled him roughly to the floor, and Poe was sucking kisses out of his mouth and pulling on his lower lip with his teeth. Then Poe grabbed one of Finn's hands and dragged it into his own hair, marionetting him to tug on the slightly longer pieces on the top, and gasping out a pleased sound when Finn did it again without prompting. 

Finn realized that tugging a bit on Poe’s hair drew his chin up, exposing his neck, and he bit down into the soft skin, and Poe moaned so expressively that Finn felt a jolt of pleasure and desire ripple from Poe’s body into his own, like electrical current running along a wire. "Do that again," Poe panted, and Finn did, only harder, and Poe made the same sound, only wilder. Finn kissed the spot, lapping his tongue over the little indentations his teeth had made in Poe's skin, and shifted his hips to slide his cock against Poe's, pressing into him, grinding up.

Poe made another one of his needy sounds, pitching his hips to rut against him. “ _ Fuck _ , I want you to-- wait, goddamn it, I don’t have any lube. It’s back at the hotel." 

Finn kissed him again, and then leaned back on his heels, grateful for the dark room to hide his blush, another set of firsts, another set of bold choices, and spat into the palm of his hand.

Poe's eyes went wide, just a flash of white in the dark. "Really?" Finn listened for hesitation, but all he heard in Poe’s voice was excitement and desire.

Finn answered by slicking the saliva across his hole, then spitting again to work in more. "Is--is this okay?”

Poe hummed in response, moving his hips along with Finn’s touch. "Damn, you never stop surprising me. I thought you'd just blow me."

Finn decided to treat that as a request and dipped his head down. He still felt uncertain and self-conscious with this act - he couldn't take him very deep without gagging, he'd never even seen foreskin before that night on Yavin IV, and most of his previous experiences with men were hurried encounters with people he didn't feel particularly interested in pleasing - but the way Poe groaned, and breathed out, "Kriff, Finn, just like that," as he licked and stroked and sucked made him feel increasingly confident. "Fuck, that feels so fucking good."

And then, not long after, he suddenly gasped, "I'm gonna come soon, do you want to fuck me?"

Finn paused. "Might hurt with just spit." In fact, he knew it would hurt, the same way he knew it could be done that way.

"I can handle it," said Poe, reaching out to caress his cheek, one of the first gentle movements that night, and pulled Finn up to kiss him softly. "I want you. Do you want me?"

Finn answered with a kiss, and then another one, pooling more saliva into his palm and slicking below, and then Poe pulled him closer by his shoulders, then his hips, adjusting him into position. Finn pushed up Poe’s knees and braced himself on the cold floor, trying to stay focused even as Poe started gasping, on a loop, “Fuck me, baby, please,” as Finn’s cock teased at Poe’s opening, and then went close to quiet, concentrating, steady breathing, as Finn slowly, gently, entered him, and then Poe was moaning again, begging him to, " _ Move _ , stars, move your fucking hips," and Finn did.

It wasn't long before Poe started to wince each time Finn pressed fully inside him, and Finn could feel little white pulses of pain as his thrusting increased, but just as he started to force himself to slow again, to ease off, Poe grabbed tight onto Finn's hips and pulled him roughly back into him. “Don’t stop.”

"But I'm hurting you," Finn protested.

"I don't care, I want you," said Poe, eyes closed and head thrown back. "If we get out of this alive, you'll be leaving again, and this-- I'll have this-- Goddammit, just fuck me."

"Poe," Finn gasped out, couldn't stop himself, snapping his hips now, rocking their bodies together like waves, skin slapping against skin, and the pulsing pain was ringing with all the other emotions Poe was sending out, the pleasure and the love and the fear, and the little grunts of pain and ecstasy, and it was getting so overwhelming Finn couldn't tell the difference between what he was feeling and what Poe was feeling, and he felt his body start to tense and his rhythm shuddered, and then Poe told him, "Come in me, baby. I want to hear you come," and Finn heard himself groan, "Oh, Poe," when he released.

He collapsed onto Poe's chest as soon as he was spent. Poe was only still for a moment, just long enough for Finn to soften and slip out of him, before he shifted down to grab his own cock and stroke feverishly. Finn wrapped one hand around his, stroking with him, and then it was just Finn stroking, and then Poe begged, "Do that thing again," and Finn bit down into his neck, hard enough (he hoped) to leave marks the next day, and Poe cried out as he came.

Finn resettled himself on Poe's chest, burying his face in Poe's neck and kissing that tender spot while his breathing slowly evened out. He didn’t need to look at Poe’s body to feel the pleasure and the sleepiness, and all of those Force-feelings rushing back that made Finn realize he’d barely registered the Force for hours, had barely felt  _ anything, _ and now it was back, and now Poe felt, and he felt, and he let out a deep, contented sigh and pressed himself closer.

"Thank you," Poe said softly, after a few minutes, just when Finn was starting to feel concerned about how rough he’d been.

"Did I hurt you?"

"Eh. I'll be pretty sore tomorrow, but that's ok." Poe kept a light hand on the back of his head, warm and solid and grounding. "I wanted you. Thank you." And then, with a light kiss to the top of his head, “Now I get to tell you how much I like the little twists,” as he toyed with one.

“Yeah?” Finn smiled into his neck. Growing and styling his hair had been one of his few pleasures - a minor, daily rebellion from the single shaved cut he was permitted for most of his life.

“Yeah. They’re cute.” Another kiss. “You’re cute.”

They hurriedly cleaned themselves up and readjusted their makeshift bed to cuddle in silence for a few more minutes under the thin blanket, Poe yawning in Finn's ear. Finn kept expecting Poe to ask how he knew to do that, with the spit; maybe he wanted Poe to ask, maybe he wanted to tell someone about it, but he didn't. And then, maybe now, maybe once they’d glued themselves back together with a few bodily fluids, maybe now he could ask about Muran and whatever complications Poe had wanted to explain. But Poe was wrapping himself more tightly around Finn's body, tangling them further, making sleepy, happy sounds that could have been whispered secrets, pressing little kisses to his face, and Finn couldn’t bring himself to break the surface of that still water.

Still, as usual in the moments right before he fell asleep, a different kind of question popped into his mind. "Why did-- never mind."

"Hmm?"

Finn considered letting it go, but he still relished this wild freedom of  _ asking _ (even if the choosing was overwhelming, the asking was dazzling). "You called me 'baby'."

"Mm-hmm," Poe shifted under him, stroking his shoulder and placing another faint kiss against his forehead. 

"Is that... something people say?"

"Yeah, kind of,” said Poe. “Do you not want me to?"

"I don't know," said Finn, trying to identify why it felt so weird. He certainly liked the  _ way _ he’d said it, all passion and pleasure and wanting, but the word itself... "I mean, you don't do this stuff with a baby."

Poe laughed, holding Finn tighter. "That's true. And I guess I did sort of name you. And I’m old." He laughed harder.

"Umm…" 

"Okay, good call, buddy. I'll try not to call you 'baby' if you promise not to call me 'daddy'."

"Daddy?" Finn flushed, feeling extremely embarrassed.

"What, baby?"

"Poe!" Finn smacked him on the thigh, and Poe giggled in a way Finn had never heard before. “But that’s...people really do that?”

“Sure, it’s a term of endearment.” Poe was sounding sleepier by the moment. “Like ‘honey’. Or ‘sweetheart’.”

“Or buddy?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“But you call everyone that,” said Finn.

“No, I don’t,” Poe yawned again. “Just you, and BeeBee-Ate, and…that’s it.”

Finn knew that wasn’t it. He’d said it to Muran that very day, while they flew and flirted and traded insults and cheers. And now he desperately wanted to ask,  _ How long did you keep loving him, after he died? _ And all the other questions about Muran he’d been burying down in the bramble, bubbling up like methane in a swamp, but Poe was already asleep, Poe needed rest if he was going to fly tomorrow, and then Finn was drifting off, too.

***

The strangest part of the dream was how  _ real _ it seemed.

Finn was standing in the command center of the prison block on the  _ Finalizer _ . He had a moment of panic and looked down, but instead of a shell of white armor, he was wearing a comfortable pair of Poe’s pants and Poe’s old brown jacket, the one with the red patches and the arm ridges that he’d lost on the  _ Supremacy _ . He rubbed the shoulders and took a breath into the collar, the smell of the leather and the faded, distant scent of Poe.

He knew it was a dream; he usually did, when he dreamed. He was standing at the control panel, staring down the endless hallway with interrogation and holding cells lining either side. He glanced behind him for the door, but it was an impassive wall of glossy black. No exit. Only forward. 

He started down the hallway, passing two closed doors, and then one slid open to his left and he looked over, startled. 

“Poe?” he heard himself shout. “Poe Dameron?” He was running, sprinting across the tarmac with the  _ Millennium Falcon _ looming behind him, and there came Poe in his orange flight suit, and they collided like two falling stars, two crashing meteors. Finn smiled. Smiled at how tightly Poe grabbed his waist in the hug, and then nervously clasped his hands together to keep from touching him more; a certain look in his dark eyes, awestruck and amazed.

Finn’s smile turned into a grin as he backed out of the room. He turned and looked with curiosity at the rows of doors stretching out ahead of him. Memories.  _ His _ memories. 

He walked a few more paces, then paused to let another door open. He and Poe, now in the  _ Falcon’s _ cockpit with a vortex of stars swirling around them. Poe was picking at the gray scarf covering the wound in his arm, dried blood crusting the fabric to his skin like rusty brown glue. Some of the scabbing had ripped as he picked at it, bright red blood seeping and beading up around the edges, but Poe was avoiding Finn’s eyes as he insisted, “There’s nothing going on between me and Zorii.”

“Poe, this is me,” Finn heard himself say. “I heard what you asked her.”

“There’s nothing going on between me and Zorii!” Poe repeated, louder this time. He made a little frustrated growl in his throat, throwing one hand out toward Finn. “It’s a joke, okay? It was a joke.”

“You honestly expect me to believe that?” 

“We haven’t seen each other in over ten years and, in case you hadn’t noticed her trying to shoot me on sight, we didn’t exactly part on good terms,” said Poe.

“Seems like you patched it up pretty quickly.” The sarcasm was biting, and Finn wanted to laugh at his own obliviousness. He remembered how upset he’d been during this conversation, after Kijimi, on the way to Kef Bir, and how odd it was that he’d been upset at all. He could almost hear Rey teasing him about his jealousy (ah, it had been  _ jealousy _ ).

Maybe Poe had sensed it, too, because he was laughing now. “Finn, there’s never been anything between me and Zorii.”

“Never?” asked Memory Finn. It was still accusational but, Finn recalled, it was also a little bit relieved.

“Nope.”

“Not anything?”

“Nope.” Poe tilted his head, drifting his hands to his hips. “Why would I lie about this?” 

“She’s a good-looking woman, Poe,” said Memory Finn.  _ Jealous, you are so jealous _ , Finn told himself, shaking his head again.

“You’ve never seen her without her helmet, Finn,” Poe countered. “She could be covered in purple pustules and Hux-colored hair.”

“Is she?”

“No. Why, are you interested? I could put in a good word.”

“Poe…”   


“I mean, she’s pretty bossy, but maybe you like that kind of thing…”

“Poe,” Memory Finn repeated, sharper. Then he sighed. “Okay. So you’re telling me, you’re honestly telling me, you never...you know...with Zorii?”

Poe was clearly fighting a smile. “What’s ‘you know’? Had sex?”

Memory Finn’s cheeks flushed. “Yeah.”

Poe laughed again. “No. No, we didn’t.” After a pause, he added, “I mean, sure, we got close one time-”

“Poe…”

“But like I said, she’s pretty bossy. We started arguing almost immediately-”

“Okay, Poe, I get it.”

“But not the fun, passionate kind of arguing. The getting-smacked-in-the-face-and-called-a-womp-rat kind.”

“Okay. Okay, Poe-”

“And not the fun kind of smack to the face, the kind that gives you a black eye later. And not the fun kind of black eye, the-”

“POE!” Memory Finn shouted. Finn himself started laughing, because he could.

Poe grinned. “Yeah?”

“I get it.” 

“Okay.” Poe’s cheeks reddened slightly, something Finn hadn’t noticed before. He also hadn’t noticed the sly smile. “Why do you care about Zorii, anyway?”

“Why did you ask to kiss her?” demanded Memory Finn.

“It was a joke!” Poe rubbed his hand over his forehead. “It was an old joke. From back then. The joke is that she never wants to kiss me, not ever, but I would ask her all the time anyway because-- because-”

“Because you’re really annoying and you like the sound of your delusional ego?” Memory Finn supplied dryly.

“Exactly!” Poe brightened, snapping his finger and pointing it at Memory Finn. “See, buddy, you know me better than anyone.”

Memory Finn smiled, and shook his head. “I guess I can say the same about you.” Then he glanced down. “You should put something on that arm or it’ll get infected.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you were a medic,” Poe snapped back, rolling his eyes. “Did the First Order do a lot of training in field medicine?”

“No, the First Order would have pumped you full of stims and given you back your blaster.”

“Are you offering? I could go for a stim right now.”

“I’m not the drug dealer here.”

“Whoa, hang on, I was never a  _ dealer _ ! I was just the pilot! You really think I-”

_ This is a good dream _ , Finn thought as he stepped out of the cockpit and left Memory Finn and Poe to their squabbling, still chuckling at his own confusion and obliviousness. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered what would happen when he opened the door to a bad memory (there were so many of those), but as he looked behind him, the command center had disappeared and all he saw was the hallway stretching long in both directions, lined with the little doors. Only thing to do was keep moving forward. 

He was almost eager when the next door opened, hoping this memory included Rey. The small room was quiet and dark, dimly-lit by a few distant lamps, and humming with gentle machinery and intermittent beeps. There was a hospital bed and a dark figure laying on it, perfectly still, barely breathing, covered in a blanket up to his chin.

“What the-” Finn heard himself whisper as he stumbled into the room. He gazed down at the figure in the bed, confused. It was another Memory Finn. His face was serene, but clearly unconscious.

“How is he?” he heard Poe say from behind him, at the doorway, and Finn bolted out of his way as Poe crossed the small room to stand in the spot Finn had just vacated, at Memory Finn’s bedside. “Any change?”

“He’s improving,” said a white-coated medical assistant, “Kalonia got the approval from General Organa for the skin graft, then he’ll go in bacta again tomorrow morning.”

“Again?” Poe furrowed his brows, looking concerned. “We’re starting the evacuation tomorrow.”

“It was a deep wound,” said the assistant. “If we don’t correct it properly, he’ll have trouble with mobility later. There should be enough time.”

Poe pressed his lips tightly together, dropping his hands next to Memory Finn’s shoulder. Finn noticed that he didn’t actually touch him. “He hasn’t woken up, right?”

“We’re still keeping him sedated,” said the assistant. “Until this last round is completed. Then we can start to wean him off the painkillers. But you know what to do,” and the assistant gestured at the chair next to Memory Finn’s bedside.

Poe looked away, fidgeting his shoulders. “I just wanted to check on him.”

“I know,” said the assistant. “So check on him.” She gave Poe a small smile, inspected one of the blinking machines at Memory Finn’s bedside, then drifted away through the wall of the holding cell.

Poe sighed, and sank into the chair. “Hey buddy,” he said, drumming his hands on his knees. “I have no idea if you can really hear me. I won’t bug you too long, it’s pretty late, and you need your rest.” Finn thought, as he examined the dark circles under Poe’s eyes, that it was Poe who needed the rest. “Not too much to report,” Poe continued. “Did another recon mission. We’ve gotta get out of here before the First Order flushes us out, so we’re preparing an evac. Don’t worry, though, we’ll take you with us. We had to bug out on a false alarm last year, and we had about twenty serious casualties in medbay at the time. Everyone got on the transport just fine. So I promise, you won’t get left behind. And we won’t let them take you back. Maybe you’ll be able to help me shoot some stuff. Seems like you’re a pretty good shot, you know, for a-” Poe cut himself off, smiling at his own teasing. “Anyway…”

Finn backed away as Poe rambled on, feeling a deep and eerie sense of unease.  _ How could I be seeing this? Did my subconscious hear everything that just happened? But if that was true, why would there be a...a visual memory? _

He’d only gone a few steps in the hallway when another door opened. Poe was in his slate-gray Republic Navy uniform, standing straight and proud with his jaw trembling, staring down at Commander Thierssen with a steel-glint in his eyes. 

“You’ll get in a cockpit again over my dead body,” Thierssen spat, chin jutted up toward Poe. “Or really, I should say Mara Pavond's dead body. Or Yunn’vida. Do you even know how many of my pilots you got killed? Maybe if you weren’t such a smug, arrogant, son of a bitch, they’d be back in my squadron right n-”

Poe’s fist connected with Thierssen’s jaw. But before he could reel back for another punch, Thierssen had kneed him in the stomach, doubling him over, and grabbed the front of his uniform to force him up and punch him solidly in the cheek.

_ Oh no _ , thought Finn, with the sudden horror of dawning realization. “Oh no,” he said out loud, and backed out of the room and into the hallway. “I shouldn’t be here.”

Finn started to walk more quickly now. Passing by doors, trying not to look, but then one opened to his right and he glanced, and then froze. His stomach dropped off the edge of a step he didn’t know was there and he lingered in the doorway, barely daring to breathe.

Poe was sitting perfectly still, eyes closed and mouth slightly parted, while Muran gently traced the lines of his face. Muran’s legs were twisted under him, coiled in active rest, staring intently into Poe’s face like he was something exquisite and edible. Muran was smiling a little, that cocky half-smirk Finn was beginning to hate, but even Finn had to admit that Muran’s dark eyes were full of bright, burning interest, and something close to softness. They were both noticeably younger; Poe’s face was more round and less square, his skin smoother, more wiry in the frame. Muran was lankier, too. If Finn had to guess, he would say they were both in their early 20s.

Poe sighed out slowly as Muran traced around his jaw, lingering close to the corner of his mouth, brushing lightly across his lower lip, then twisting up to caress Poe’s cheek with the back of his fingers. “Did you know you have a little gray here,” he murmured at the shadow of facial hair. “And here,” as he brushed a few silver strands of hair at his temples. 

“Mm-hmm.” Poe tilted his head, leaning his cheek into Muran’s hand. “I usually pull them out,” he admitted with a small laugh, eyes still closed.

Muran laughed too. “So vain,” and he ran his fingernails gently over the black stubble on his cheek, and Finn could hear the light scratching from across the room and the release of Poe’s breath. Then, as his fingertips drifted again, “When did you break your nose?”

“Three years ago,” said Poe.

“What happened?”

“Got in a fight.”

“Who started it?”

“Who do you think?”

Muran chuckled. He clearly knew the answer, though Finn wasn’t sure that he did. Now Muran was tracing the fine lines at the edges of Poe’s eyes, from laughing, and squinting in the sun, and concentrating on data screens, and how wide he smiled when he saw Finn running toward him on the tarmac at-- _no, no, this is before, you were on that damn base when this-_ __ “What have you had to worry about, I wonder?” said Muran, in the same soft voice. Like lulling a wild animal into a trance. 

Poe breathed out another little laugh, ducking his head away from Muran’s hand and opening his eyes. “Don’t remember now.”

“Can’t have been too important, then.”

“Guess not.” 

“Maybe it’s just from laughing at all the shit you pull.”

“That too,” Poe smiled, and jutted his chin a little, clearly inviting Muran back to touch him some more.

He did. He smoothed over Poe’s dark eyebrows, then rested his fingertips at the edge of his brow ridge (smooth skin, the hooked scar was still years in the future) and tilted him gently into profile. He brushed back a stray curl, tracing over Poe’s ear (which made Poe shiver visibly), then down his neck, around his jaw, gently pinching his chin in his fingertips, and tilting his head the other way to trace the same path up the other side.

“Do I pass inspection?” said Poe finally.

“You what?” 

“Prematurely gray, big nose. Hope you’re not too disappointed.” Poe’s smile was full of challenge, and his open, dark eyes were full of vulnerability.

Muran smiled too, no longer the cocky smirk, but something warm and--oh, hell, and  _ loving _ \--and then he was drawing Poe closer, his hand cradling Poe’s cheek, tangling his fingers in Poe’s dark hair, uncoiling his legs for leverage to reach out and slide his other hand around Poe’s waist, under his jacket, close to his skin, and then they were kissing, lips barely pressed together at first, just breathing in the closeness and the possibilities and the long empty spaces between their bodies, and then breathing out, “No, you’re gorgeous,” as he kissed him deeper, with promise and hunger and confidence, and then Poe groaned and opened his mouth, and Finn saw pink movement between their lips, and that was when his stomach dropped ten feet into an icy tank, warm fire doused by a cold burn that radiated out from his pelvis toward his fingertips, and he had to do something to steady himself because he was-

His hand hit the wall harder than he intended, and the light thump of his knuckles echoed through the little room.

Poe immediately looked up for the source of the noise. “What was that? Is your bunkmate back?” 

( _ Did he actually hear me? How is that possible? Isn’t this a memory? When is this? Where is this? _ )

Muran didn’t move a muscle except to open his eyes, drinking in Poe’s face from his hairline back down to his lips. “Nah, he won’t be back for hours.” That gentle hand reached out again, tucked under Poe’s chin, drawing his eyes back, and another smile.

Finn couldn’t take any more. He launched back out of the room, just out of eyesight, and collapsed against the wall. Breathing heavily. Confused. Angry. Ashamed. Aroused.

And not yet completely out of earshot, for the next thing he heard was another gentle murmur from Muran, and then Poe’s laugh, and then the unmistakable sweetness of kissing. Soon they were both breathing heavily, wet sounds, low sounds, something deep and guttural and long before his time or only overheard very late at night in a dark room in another life, and-

Finn fled down the hall, running past doorways, closed doors and open doors, refusing to look inside. The hall stretched on.  _ I’m not supposed to be here _ , he thought, getting frantic now, and then aloud, “I shouldn’t be here.”

As he ran past, the doors slid open, showing quick glances of the contents inside: a small boy with tan skin and wild curls chasing a beautiful, dark-haired woman in circles around a small sapling with blue-tipped leaves and silver bark; that same boy, a few years older, limbs long and gawky from a sudden growth spurt, crying hysterically in the arms of a much-younger Kes Dameron. 

“I’m sorry,” Finn gasped. “I’m sorry, Poe, I know I shouldn’t be here.” He kept running. He didn’t know how to get out. “Rey? Can you hear me? Please, help me, I can’t get out.”  _ Wake up, wake up, WAKE UP. _

Another door opened and as he passed it, he heard Poe snarl, pained and frustrated, “Well, I’m not Leia.” and his own voice, hard and clipped,  _ please don’t make me hear that, that wasn’t- _ “That’s for damn sure.”

Finn started to sprint. The corridor stretched. He was getting winded, his lungs were burning and his legs were cramping, and the corridor kept stretching, doorways upon doorways, and Finn tried to close his ears, tried to make the words and shouts and laughter blend together into one rushing noise, like static, like the waterfall. 

Behind one door, Poe was screaming. Behind another, he was singing.

Finn finally halted, hands resting on his knees and panting, sweat dripping off his forehead. As the ringing in his ears subsided, he heard two raised voices, and it was a reflex to look toward the source, just to the right, and the doorway opened to-  _ stop, don’t look, stop, you shouldn’t be here _ \- Poe and Muran, again.

Poe was red-faced and angrier than Finn had ever seen him, his hands clenched at his sides and his entire body vibrating with indignation and rage. “Why are you even still here?” 

“Because I love you!” Muran insisted.

A tear leaked out of the side of Poe’s eye, but Finn couldn’t quite tell if it was sadness or barely-contained fury, or both. “If you love me, then why did you fuck him? I asked you not to. I  _ begged _ you.”

_ Oh, I'm going to kill him _ , Finn whirled to glare at Muran.

“It was a mistake,” said Muran, ducking his head and folding in his shoulders, and Finn felt his own fury rising to see the casualness of his pose, the semblance of chagrin, he could  _ feel _ Muran’s internal calculations shifting. “Biggest mistake of my life. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, baby. I was drunk, and-- I never meant to hurt you.”

“But you keep doing this,” said Poe, and his voice broke. “Why can’t you just stop? Or leave me already? You know how I feel about you, and you just keep doing it...”

“Do you want me to leave? You’re right, I should leave,” said Muran, and he immediately started for the door. Poe was standing between him and the exit, and Muran brushed his shoulders, pausing at the contact, and murmured, “I do love you.”

Tears were visibly streaming down Poe’s cheeks now, his eyes red and his cheeks blotchy, and he didn't move when Muran reached out and ( _ Oh, I am going to  _ _ kill _ _ him _ ) touched him gently on the forearm. “You deserve better than me,” Muran murmured in that soft, taming voice. “I’ve never been good enough for you.”

Poe looked down at the floor, dripping a tear off the end of his nose, and he dug into his eye with the heel of his hand. “That’s not-”

“You deserve someone who’ll care for you properly,” Muran interrupted, leaning in closer to rest his forehead gently against the top of Poe’s head. Finn saw Poe wilt, bending into the touch. “Someone perfect.”

“You don’t need to be perfect,” Poe cut in. “I’ve never asked you to be perfect.”

“I know,” said Muran. “I know. I’m a damn fool. Taken you for granted, haven’t I? You deserve better. Someone who knows you, like I do. Who knows what you like-” and the hand on Poe’s forearm drifted down to the inside of his hip, “-but better. Better than me.”

“I don’t want someone else,” said Poe, eyes closed, and he sounded so miserable Finn wanted to- “I just want you to stop doing this to me.”

“It’s too late for that, isn’t it?” said Muran, sliding his hand across Poe’s stomach and pulling him into a hug. “I messed up. I’m such a fuck-up, babe. I don’t know why you ever put up with me. You’re better off without me.”

Poe let himself be drawn into the hug, digging his hands into Muran’s shirt and pressing his face hard into his chest. His shoulders began to shake, and Finn could hear him crying. Muran shushed him, rubbing his back, then kissed the top of his head and said, in that same soft voice which was starting to chill the back of Finn’s neck like scraping metal, “You’ll be okay,” he said soothingly. “I’ll request a transfer. I don’t ever want to hurt you like this again.”

“A transfer?” Poe looked up, eyebrows raising to his hairline. He looked suddenly scared. "W-where?”

“Anywhere else. So you don't have to put up with me. Don’t you think that’s best?” Muran tilted his head.

“I don’t know,” said Poe. His eyes were puffy, and his nose was running, and he looked shame-faced at Muran’s chest, hands still tangled in the fabric of his shirt. “I don’t want you to-- Muran, I-”

“It’s okay,” Muran said again, pulling him into another hug. “It’ll be all right. It’s better this way.” Glancing down, hearing Poe sniffle, Poe was crying again, and he smiled into Poe’s hair and swayed to the side. “Hey, we’ll always have Ryloth, right?”

Poe laughed, then sniffled again. “Fuck.”

Muran laughed too, his eyes sparking. “Oh, we sure did. Man, I was thinking about that night the entire time we did that long jump last week.”

Poe shook his head, still buried. “You were, huh?”

“Mm-hmm,” Muran was stroking Poe’s hair now. “I’m always thinking about that night. Well, that or when we snuck into Captain Tane’s ready room.”

“Oh man,” Poe breathed out another chuckle. He slid his hands from the front of Muran’s shirt to wrap around his waist. “That was--” then he chuckled again.

Muran did, too. “Oh, it was. So don’t worry,” and he leaned down toward Poe’s face, and Poe finally looked up at him, meeting his eyes. “I’ll have lots of memories to remind me what I’m missing.”

Poe looked stricken, his resolve clearly shattering, and he opened his mouth to say something when Muran dipped down and ghosted a kiss near the side of his mouth. “I do love you,” Muran murmured against his lips, and Poe closed the gap and kissed him, and then whispered back, “Promise?” and Muran wrapped him close and kissed him deeply, “Promise. Promise, baby. I promise, I won’t hurt you again,” and then Poe was begging, “Don’t leave. Please, don’t leave me alone,” and Muran was gently guiding Poe back toward the bed in the corner while they kissed, and Finn wanted to tear them apart, to throw Muran out of the room and  _ kill _ him with his bare hands-

“Get out of my head!” Poe’s voice suddenly echoed all around him. It drowned everything else out and recoiled off the walls, and then again, louder, close to a scream, “GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HEAD!” and everything went black.

  
  
  
  


Finn sat straight up off the floor, like surfacing from under a wave, panting and covered in sweat. He reached out into the pitch-dark room. “Poe-”

“Don’t touch me,” Poe smacked his hand away, launching out of their makeshift bed and hopping twice to pull on his pants while still propelling forward, away from Finn.

“Poe, I’m so sorry,” Finn gasped, tangled in the blanket, trying to find his clothes in the dark. “I didn’t know how to get out, I didn’t know what I was doing, I know I shouldn’t have-”

“Just stay the fuck away from me,” Poe snapped, and stalked out the door, nearly at a sprint.

“Poe, please,” Finn begged. “I’m sorry.” But Poe was gone, and Finn collapsed onto his knees, like he’d been running for hours.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...sorry?


	8. Chapter 8

After a few seconds of fighting tears and trying to decide what to do, Finn gathered his courage and stood up. BB-8’s charging station gave a dim light in the dark room, and after a bit of a hunt in the mess of blankets, he found his pile of clothes shoved under the empty bunk bed. He stepped out the door, pausing for a moment to adjust his eyes to the sudden brightness, and nearly ran directly into Rey.

“Finn!” she said, putting a gentle hand on his arm. “What’s wrong? I heard shouting, are you two all right?”

“I screwed up,” said Finn, feeling the panic rising again. “You have to-- I need your help. Where’s Poe? Wait,” he stopped himself to take a deep breath, and on the exhale, as his racing mind calmed, he knew exactly where Poe was sitting. “No, I’ve got him.”

“He’s in the hangar bay,” said Rey. “Six, I think.”

“I know.”

“What happened?”

“I screwed up,” Finn repeated himself. “Rey, I screwed up so bad. I...I don’t know how I did it. I was asleep, we were sleeping, and then I was in his head. I was...like I was walking through his memories. I saw stuff I wasn’t supposed to see.”

“Oh no,” said Rey.

“Right?” Finn’s throat felt tight again, something stinging as he swallowed. “How could I do that? How could that happen, without meaning to?”

“I’m not sure,” Rey shook her head. Her hand tightened on his arm. “Your way with the Force is different from mine.”

“It’s just...so, so wrong,” said Finn. “And then I couldn’t get out, I couldn't wake up. I was running, and running, and I couldn’t get out.” A bit plaintively, “I was trying to reach you, to help me. Did you hear me?”

Rey’s muddy green eyes were full of concern. “Not in time,” she said. “I take it Poe didn’t react well?”

“No, he did not,” said Finn darkly. “Would you, if someone were poking around in your head?”

“Well, if it were someone I loved-” Rey started, but Finn shook his head.

“Don’t lie,” he said. “You wouldn’t want me seeing all your secrets.”

Rey considered that a moment, her eyes drifting away as she thought, and Finn felt the unmistakable presence of something else, something in addition to Rey, something dark clawing at the back of her mind. It was vaguely familiar, and he chased that feeling, curious, wondering. It was a dark presence, something he’d only felt once before. On the wreckage of an old space station. 

Then the presence vanished as her mind slammed shut, like blast doors, and Rey was looking at him in a strange, almost frightened way. “Oh, I see,” she said.

“I shouldn’t be able to do that,” said Finn, feeling helpless and angry and out of bounds. 

“Well, I wouldn’t say that. You can’t tell the Force what it should or shouldn’t do,” she said evenly, keeping her mind a careful blank. “But it is...unusual that you do it without intending to.”

Finn let out a deep breath, and chewed on his lower lip. “I should go find Poe. But I need you to help me. Please?”

“Of course,” said Rey.

“I can’t do this to him again.” His throat was feeling tight again. “He’ll-- it’s like his worst nightmare, Rey. I can’t...please, please help me.”

“In any way I can,” said Rey, squeezing his arm briefly before letting go. “I’m not sure what we can do, but I’ll try to figure something out. Give me a few minutes to think on it.” By which she meant, Finn assumed, let her try to consult long-dead Jedi masters in a deep meditative state. Unless she brought her texts with her wherever she went, which seemed unlikely. “I’ll come and find you, soon. I promise.”

“Thanks, Rey,” said Finn, digging into his eye as though he could force the moisture to stay inside.

She hugged him. “You didn’t mean to do this. He knows that.”

“I hope so,” he said softly into her shoulder. 

***

Poe was sitting crunched into the corner of the hangar bay, sandwiched against a control panel and a fuel line, like he was trying to get as close to an exit as he could without ejecting through the force field into open space. 

“Poe?” Finn croaked, voice barely louder than a whisper. “Are you okay?”

“Not really.”

Finn crept closer. “I’m so sorry,” he said, even as he saw Poe tense his shoulders, like his muscles were locking up as he felt Finn coming nearer. “I’m so, so sorry, Poe. I don’t know how you can ever forgive me, but I swear, I didn’t mean to do it.”

“What did you see?”

Now Finn’s muscles were tensing, locking up with shame and dread and guilt and sadness. And fear. He didn’t know if he could answer that. He didn’t know where to start.

“What did you see, Finn?” Poe repeated, curling his arms tightly around himself.

“Can I sit down?”

Poe didn’t move, but he didn’t say no, so Finn gently lowered himself down next to him. Their knees brushed as he settled himself, and Poe jerked his leg away like he’d been stung.

“Sorry,” Finn whispered.

“What did you see?”

“Did you see it, too?”

“I don’t know. I saw-- I don’t know what you saw,” said Poe. He stared straight ahead, at the blue-tinted force field keeping the vacuum at bay.

“Well...I thought they were my memories, at first,” said Finn. “Because I saw us...you and me, on D’Qar, when I brought back BeeBee-Ate. And then when we were fighting about whether or not you wanted to kiss Zorii? On the _Falcon_?” He hoped the memory might coax a smile out of Poe, but he remained impassive. “I thought I was just dreaming about you.”

Poe’s face remained blank, still staring ahead. “Then what?”

“Um…” Finn took a deep breath, fighting the panic and urge to run, or hug him, or beg forgiveness for another dozen times. “Then I saw myself in the medbay. When I was-- after Starkiller. You were checking on me. And I thought, maybe my subconscious could hear you talking?”

Poe glanced over at him, briefly, then looked away again. “And then?”

“Then I saw you and...and Commander Thierssen. You-- right before you punched him.”

Poe shrank, recoiling. “Oh.”

Finn sighed, so ashamed. He tried to find the calm place in the back of his mind, the one he used when shooting, to keep the shame buried down deep, so he could be honest. Poe deserved honesty. “And then I saw you...you and Muran, um…”

“In his bunk?”

“I guess so, you mentioned a roommate,” said Finn. “I couldn’t see anything about where you were, just what was happening between you two.”

“I saw it, too,” said Poe, answering his earlier question in a flat voice. “Thought it was just a dream.”

“Was that the first time you kissed?”

“No,” said Poe. “But it was the first time we had sex.”

“Oh.” Finn was glad he’d left when he did. He knew, some part of him knew, where that memory was leading, and he hated himself for how his stomach twisted in jealousy and longing.

“What else?”

“I was-- there were all these doors. Like, a big long hallway, and all these doors, and I started running. I knew I wasn’t supposed to be there,” said Finn. _Please, please believe me. I’m sorry._ “I was trying to get out. So I just saw...little glimpses. Like, you playing with your mom. And...you and me, on Kef Bir.”

Poe tensed again, curling his legs around himself now, like his limbs were bandages wrapping around his core. “That thing about Leia?”

“Yeah,” said Finn. “I’m sorry. I never should have said that.”

He shrugged. “It was the truth.”

“It was hurtful.”

“We were both having a rough day.” The flatness in Poe’s voice was unnerving. “What else?”

“Just a bunch of doorways,” said Finn. “I kept running. I didn’t know how to get out. I don’t know how I got in there in the first place. I’m so sorry.”

“What else did you _see_ ,” Poe pressed.

Finn sighed again. “You and Muran were fighting. You were...he’d been with someone else, and you were trying to break up with him, and then he sort of got you to change your mind?”

“That happened a lot,” said Poe, staring at his knees.

“Cheating on you? Or breaking up and getting back together?”

“Yeah,” said Poe, and Finn took that to mean an affirmative answer to both questions. “Told you my old boyfriends were jerks.”

“You joined the Resistance for him, though,” said Finn, finally turning to face him. His eyes were red, but his cheeks were dry. “When you thought the First Order had killed him.”

“Uh-huh,” said Poe, still looking down.

“You yelled at your superiors. You took on the First Order, by yourself.”

“Yeah.”

“Why? When he treated you like that, why would you-”

“I loved him,” Poe shrugged. “I keep trying to tell you, Finn, I’m not very smart. I never know when to-- Hell,” he laughed suddenly, mirthless and cold, “I was completely in love with you for almost two solid years, and you’d never so much as looked at me that way. So. King of Lost Causes, that’s me.”

Finn immediately wanted to protest the idea that he hadn’t felt anything before Yavin, that he’d completely ignored Poe’s affections; to tell him that he just hadn’t understood, that Poe never said anything; but then he seized on a word. “Was?”

“What?”

“You said, ‘I _was_ in love with you…’ Does that mean…?”

Poe’s jaw set for a moment, and Finn felt a wave of irritation waft toward him, yellow with a greenish tinge, an unappetizing color he’d never seen before, but then Poe sighed. “No, it doesn’t. I’m mad, but I still love you, Finn. I know you didn’t do this on purpose.”

Relief flooded everywhere. “Can I-” Finn started to reach out to him, but Poe shifted away, crushing himself against the control panel.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Sorry,” Finn whispered. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Me neither. But please...” Poe’s voice dropped a pitch, cracking at the bottom. “Just don’t touch me, okay?”

“Okay.” Finn realized there was something he needed to ask, and his eyes were stinging just at the thought. “Was that what...am I like...was it like when Kylo Ren…?” He blinked rapidly, and rubbed at his eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to be like that.”

“It wasn’t like that,” said Poe. “It was, but it wasn’t. I thought it was a dream. I didn’t realize it was actually you until...with Ren, I knew what he was doing, and I was trying to fight it, and he-- it hurt. This didn’t hurt.”

“Good. I mean, it’s not good, it’s not good at all. It’s really bad,” said Finn, wiping his other eye. “But I’m glad I didn’t hurt you.” When Poe didn’t respond, Finn added, in a quiet voice, “I guess it hurts now, though.”

“It’s fine,” said Poe in that same flat voice, repeating himself in a nearly-robotic way. “I’ll be fine. I know you didn’t do it on purpose. Just don’t touch me.”

“I won’t.” Finn waited through the silence, then he couldn’t wait anymore. “Poe…”

“What?”

“Did you really ask him to marry you?” and instantly wished he hadn’t; that wasn’t the right question, that wasn’t anywhere near the most important of the questions that needed to be asked. This wasn’t even about Muran; this was about Finn and Poe, and Poe had tried to tell him it was complicated, and Finn had chosen not to talk about it when they had the chance. 

Poe breathed out something that was halfway between a snort and a grunt. “Kriff, Finn, is that all you-”

“Finn?” Rey asked, quietly, from behind them.

Finn turned to look at her; Poe didn’t. “You ready?”

“Yes,” she nodded.

“Okay,” said Finn. He pulled himself to his feet, resisting every urge to touch Poe’s shoulder as he did. Poe kept staring straight ahead, barely registering anything around him. “I’m going to shut this off, okay?” Finn said. “It’s never going to happen again.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” said Poe.

“Well, I’ll figure it out,” said Finn. “I‘ll never do this to you again. I promise.”

“Don’t make promises,” said Poe, anger sparking in his voice again. “Don’t ever make me promises, Finn. Nobody knows which promises we can keep.”

An awkward silence stretched. Rey looked at them both, face twisted in concern, and Finn again fought against all his impulses to reach out, to hug him, to apologize another hundred times. “I’ll figure this out,” he repeated, feeling helpless and stupid. “I’ll stop it.”

“You do that,” said Poe sarcastically, like he had no confidence whatsoever. Like he didn’t believe him for a minute.

***

Rey didn’t actually have a cure for him, of course. 

They meditated for some time on the _Falcon_ . Or at least, Rey meditated and Finn attempted to join her. He was even more distracted than usual, though. Between the porgs in the wall, and the Chewi's snoring, and the young couple arguing in their quarters on deck 5, and Karé crying herself back to sleep while Jess held her hand, and it was like a pair of blast doors had broken open and instead of shutting out the ship of noise it was all flooding in at once: colors, and voices, and feelings, and too many thoughts, and he was so _curious_ about all of it. Humans and aliens and sentients and their messy feelings and their messy choices and the unsettling disorder of their lives, and maybe he should go live in the cave on Ajan Kloss with a collective of master-less, thoughtless, feeling-less droids. 

Rey kept her mind firmly locked against his constant searching, and he tried to cling to that blankness like a raft in a stormy sea. But his mind repeatedly raced to the flickers of warm candlelight filtering in at the edge of his vision, like a beacon in the dark, guiding him away from the turmoil and the noise and the quiet, dark cave of Rey’s absence, until Finn finally sighed in exhaustion and frustration and worry, and told her they should get some rest.

When Finn went back to their room, BB-8 was waiting for him, fully powered and twirling around with nervous beeps and babbles. 

< _Where is Master-Poe? Is there danger? > _

Finn honestly couldn’t tell whether BB-8 was actually chastising him or whether he just felt chastised by any of the sounds from Poe’s beloved droid after what happened this evening. So he just sat back down on the mattress on the floor, saying, “Poe’s in the hangar. You should go find him, he needs you right now.”

BB-8 cocked his dome and quietly beeped, < _Does Friend-Finn also need me?_ >

“I’m fine, BeeBee,” said Finn. “Go be with Poe.”

Finn lay back down once BB-8 had rolled out the door, staring at the ceiling, trying to calm himself, trying to meditate, trying to shut it all off. But he couldn’t; of course he couldn’t. It was stupid to think he could. He could still feel Poe in the hangar bay, saw the little lift in his mood when BB-8 found him there, saw him make no movement at all to come back to the barracks or back to bed (or back to Finn). Finn allowed himself three tears, that’s it, soldier, just three, one for each eye and one for luck, and scrubbed them off his face before he sighed and forced himself to close his eyes, counting his breathing until the stinging left his throat and his eyes stopped moistening and the colors started to dim and the headache retreated to the base of his skull. He was so certain he wouldn’t sleep, so certain he would still be staring at the ceiling in the morning... 

...And then, he was being woken by the beeping from an alarm in the door controls, and getting up, and Poe still hadn’t come back.

Finn was still undecided on the best course of action: whether to give Poe some space until after their mission or try to force some kind of reconciliation before they put themselves in front of the First Order again. He showered and put on his New Republic foot soldier’s uniform, fabric folds pressed into the wrong places from its long time on the shelf, and this time when he left his room, the hallways were bustling with personnel. He could see the little glowing lights of Jess and Karé and Thierssen in the mess, feel their pale orange sleepiness and their darker green uncertainty.

His feet seemed to choose for him: he left the barracks and made his way back to the hangar rather than the mess. He knew Poe was still down there, always that candle flickering in the corner of his mind, and there he was: elbows-deep in the belly of his assigned X-wing, three technicians swept up in his whirling dervish of frantic, last-minute modifications, BB-8 whistling from the astromech socket. He had the arms of his flight suit tied around his waist.

“Hi. Have you had any breakfast?” Finn said, from what seemed like a safe distance away. “I can get you something.”

Poe looked up and his whole body twitched. “Hi! Is it morning?” he said, hopping off the stepladder and scurrying toward Finn. For a split second, Finn thought he would actually give him a hug - perhaps Poe had thought so, too, but then he stopped himself and hovered just out of reach. “I’m not hungry. You? You should eat. Definitely get some food. You okay?”

Finn narrowed his eyebrows as Poe kept twitching. “Did you get any sleep?”

“Next best thing, took a stim,” he said with a shrug. “Want one?”

“No thanks,” said Finn. 

“You okay?” Poe asked again, scratching at his knuckles. “You sleep?”

“I’m fine,” said Finn. “Are you? Are...Are we okay? Should we talk?”

“Not a lot of time for that right now,” Poe shrugged. “Gotta finish these mods before we launch. But yeah, later? Talking’s fine. Or not talking. What do you want?”

 _Forgiveness. Reassurance. A ship that goes back in time._ “I want us to be okay,” said Finn. “You probably don’t want any more of my apologies, but...but I really, really, really-”

“You don’t have to say sorry, Finn,” said Poe, though he didn't meet his eyes. “Sorry I got so mad.”

“You have every right to be mad at me,” said Finn. 

“Don’t worry about it,” said Poe, quirking the edges of his mouth, a tic or a smile or his brain mis-firing a frown. “We’re fine. It’s fine. If you still want me to-- I mean, it’s not like I--” He shook his head a few times. “Don’t worry about it. I want whatever you want.” (What Finn wanted, desperately, was to touch him, but he suspected that wasn’t quite on the table yet.) “Let’s just get this over with, yeah? Fuck, never thought I’d look forward to going back to Ganthel.” He laughed, and scratched at his ear. “You need help with the kid?”

“No, we should be okay,” Finn shook his head. 

“Okay. Mission launch in thirty minutes, I’m gonna test this out first, make sure I haven’t done anything that’s going to explode.” He grinned, though it wasn’t exactly a smile. “See you after it’s done? Be careful? Rey’s a good pilot, and you-- you’re a great gunner, and all you Jedi keep saying you don’t need guns anyway, and I’ll be on your wing. I’m a good fucking pilot, Finn, I’ll be on your wing the whole time, and we’ll swap the kids and then we’re done, so you don’t need to-” He took a deep breath, and shook his head with his eyes closed. “Sorry. ‘M a little...This weird twitchy shit goes away after an hour. It’s fine. Let’s just do this and go home.”

“You be careful, too, Poe,” said Finn. He chewed on the inside of his cheek, hesitating, waiting to be dismissed, not wanting to be the first to leave.

Poe gave another involuntary, full-body shudder, and then launched forward to kiss his cheek - a quick peck, touching only the barest outline of his lips to Finn’s skin, both of their faces scratchy with stubble, and then a second kiss, even briefer than the first, a brush across his lips this time, and then he was reeling back on his heels. “Be careful. I love you.” Then he turned and half-ran, half-skittered back to the X-wing.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter-specific content warning for references to and descriptions of violence against children. The next few chapters get really dark, folks. (Dark stories for a dark time.) But please remember I have promised you a happy ending!

The _Falcon_ dropped into sub-light exactly ten minutes before the scheduled hand-off, and it felt like a cold hand had traced itself down the back of Finn’s neck when he saw the rings and spokes of the dark base orbiting IOX-34917. He had actually only seen it from orbit a handful of times, when his unit had returned from training excursions on other bases and when they had left onboard the Star Destroyer with Captain Phasma. They had taken numerous shuttles to and from the surface of the planet for terrain drills, but First Order Stormtrooper shuttles did not have windows.

“ _That thing is huge_ ,” said Poe over the comms. “ _I’m not reading any other ships in orbit. No shields on the base, either. Rey, you confirm?”_

“ _My readings match yours, Blue Two_ ,” said Muran.

“ _I was asking Rey._ ”

“No other ships right now,” said Rey, bringing the _Falcon_ nearer to the docking bay along a circuitous route, giving them time to inspect the exterior of the base and wait for ships to either drop out of hyperspace or approach from the far side of the planet. 

“The base is empty,” said Finn, even though he knew Poe couldn’t hear him. He was sitting behind Rey in his usual perch, and had deposited Nama in the seat directly behind Chewie. The Wookie had given her a reassuring growl when she entered the cockpit, which she seemed to have misinterpreted as a threat to eat her, so the quick journey through hyperspace was quiet, if tense and uncomfortable. “There’s nobody there.”

“The base appears to be abandoned,” Rey passed on to the comms. “Neither Finn nor I can get any read on life forms there.”

“ _So where are all the kids?_ ” asked Poe.

“Probably evacuated,” said Finn. “I doubt the First Order would have agreed to let us anywhere near an active training station.”

“Yes, I agree,” said Rey, as Muran echoed similar sentiments over the comms.

Finn heard Nama scoffing under her breath, sinking lower in her seat and adjusting the buckle of her charcoal-gray First Order cadet uniform. It had been perfectly pressed, even the stiff folds of the hat starched and spotless, her tall boots shining, when a trio of guards had escorted her to the _Ligeia_ ’s hangar bay for Finn and Rey to load onto the _Falcon_ that morning. She had barely looked at anyone or said anything since then. “This is so stupid,” she said under her breath.

“Any particular reason why?” asked Rey, guiding the ship into the landing bay.

“Because we’re all going to die now,” said Nama as the cockpit dimmed and the landing gear settled into place.

“It’s really not too terrible,” said Rey, standing up from the captain’s chair and retrieving a commlink from the dashboard. Finn wondered if Rey enjoyed the furrowed look of confusion that flew across Nama’s face. He did not. He did not like thinking, at any point, about the brief moment in time when he knew that Rey had died. “P-- Blue Two, we’ve landed in the hangar,” Rey said. “Exiting the ship now.”

“ _Copy, Falcon. Still no sign of an incoming ship._ ”

The gangplank descended, and the quartet disembarked. Chewie took the rear guard with his crossbow, with Rey’s billowing white wraps leading them into the center of the large hangar. Finn pressed a light hand against Nama’s elbow (“I’m not going to run,” she hissed at him. “Where would I go?”) and he retracted it.

The hangar was full of red lights and flashing warnings, though the klaxon alarms weren’t active. “The handover is supposed to take place in the atrium,” said Rey. “Finn, can you get us there?”

“Sure,” he nodded, looking around. “Everything still looks active. I think the evacuation was recent.”

“ _How recent_?” asked Poe through the commlink.

“Very recent,” Finn repeated. It was hard to explain how the tidy hangar with not an item out place, floors still glossy and clean, could give the air of a hasty retreat but Finn knew the evacuation had been swift. “Maybe a day, or less than that. It’s...it’s weird. Something’s weird.” He looked over at Rey. “Are you…?”

“Yes,” Rey nodded. “I feel it, too.”

“ _Really bad weird? Or just bad weird? Or just the First Order is weird?_ ”

“Weird,” Finn repeated. “I don’t know how else to…Still no sign of the other ship?”

“ _Nothing_ ,” said Poe. “ _But they're not officially late yet. BeeBee-Ate, can you--?_ ” and then his signal crackled and cut out.

“ _\--Falcon Team, we have--- and there’s---_ ” Muran’s connection was even scratchier, and soon cut out entirely, too.

“Poe?” Rey held the commlink close to her mouth. “Blue Two, can you hear me?”

When there was no answer, Rey met Finn’s eyes, and Nama started to laugh. “Stupid,” she shook her head. “Should just shoot us all now.”

“Nobody’s shooting anyone, thank you,” said Rey. “Chewie, check the radar for their ships. And see if the First Order’s jumped in yet.”

Chewie grunted agreement, and hurried back up the gangplank of the _Falcon_. Just as Finn saw him settle down at the controls, the sound of engines filled the hangar and an X-wing swooped in to land a few feet away. 

The cockpit opened, and Poe peeked his head out. “You guys okay?” he called as he pulled off his helmet.

“We’re fine. What’s wrong with your comm?” asked Finn, looking around the edges of the hangar for a ladder.

“Not sure. I lost contact with BeeBee and you guys at the same time,” said Poe. He twisted in his seat to look back at the droid. “How long until you can fix it, buddy?”

< _I am unable to correct the malfunction. Ship communications are fully functional, the deficiency is externally-based,_ > the droid beeped, clearly (thankfully) in working order.

“Probably explains why Muran’s is out too,” said Finn, just as the second X-wing made its landing on the other side of the _Falcon_ , very close to the edge of the landing bay in the only place with enough room for another ship.

“Definitely something weird going on,” said Poe as he quickly slid down the ladder. He landed nimbly with a thump of his boots on the glossy floor, adjusting the neck of his new electric blue flight suit. “D’you lose your comm?” he hollered across the cavernous hall.

“Obviously,” said Muran, sounding frustrated as he leaped down from his ship. “Can’t reach the _Ligeia_ either.”

“Did you still have radar?” asked Finn. “Chewie was checking ours.”

“Yeah, last I saw there was nothing coming in,” said Poe. “Maybe a dampening field?”

“There’s nobody here to activate it, though.”

“Hm,” Poe chewed on his lip. The twitchiness from his earlier stimulant was gone, as was any trace of his recent softness, sweetness, or joviality. This was Mission Poe, steadfast and determined, and Finn remembered him well - though he hadn’t fully, properly been aware of just how sexy that confident capability was until now. The urge to tug him closer by the medpack straps around his chest was suddenly overwhelming, and he had a new appreciation for just how well Poe had hid his feelings for so long. He did risk a small smile, and was a bit comforted when Poe smiled back.

“Could it have been on a timed delay, programmed to start once a ship entered orbit?" Poe asked, turning businesslike again. "BeeBee, how long were we here before the comms cut out?”

< _Stand by, reviewing log_ ,> BB-8 beeped, and then whistled, < _Eight minutes, zero seconds._ >

“Eight minutes exactly?” said Poe, grimacing a bit. “Fine. Guess we’ll go shut that off, then. Finn?”

“The command center should be accessible from the atrium,” said Finn. “I can probably find it.”

“Okay, let’s be quick and get back here before the trap gets sprung,” Poe nodded, unholstering his blaster to check the safety. “Chewie! Whatcha got?” as the Wookie reappeared at the top of the gangplank. Several roars and some frustrated grumbling echoed through the hall, almost bouncing off the distracting red lights.

“Right, good plan,” Poe nodded. “But how will you let us know if the comms are out?”

“We’ll know,” said Rey, gesturing between herself and Finn.

“Rey will, at least,” Finn shrugged. He didn't want to over-promise on his own limited capabilities.

“Okay,” Poe nodded. “Chewie, take the kid back on the _Falcon_ and be ready to beat feet out of here in case a ship jumps in with guns blazing.”

Chewie growled his agreement, jerking his head at Nama to usher her back onto the ship. 

Nama gave the slightest glance back at Finn, and then turned. “You shouldn’t--” she started, and then slammed her mouth shut.

“We'll be careful," said Finn. "We know it’s probably a trap."

“What a surprise,” Poe rolled his eyes, glowering at Muran. “What’d you do now? I know why we’re the loose ends for the First Order to tie up, but why are you being thrown out with the rest of the trash?”

“Come on, Spicy,” said Muran, unzipping the collar on his flight suit and pulling his blaster out of its holster. “Let’s find the bridge.”

“Lead the way, babe.” Poe tapped Finn lightly on the shoulder, but was already turning to march to the back of the hangar before Finn could register either the touch or the endearment, BB-8 rolling at his heels. He hurried to catch up with the others and find the best way out of the hangar, trying to ignore the tension headache building around the base of his skulla

The corridors were dark and obscured by lack of light, curving gently around the outermost edge of the wheel. They found one of the main spokes leading into the center of the base, wide enough for Poe, Finn, and Muran to walk abreast with room to spare, Rey a pace or two behind, and followed it to the heart of the station: an enormous round atrium with a transparisteel ceiling open to the stars above, and a descending corkscrew ramp that circled down into dimly lit, flashing red shadows. 

“This is where the exchange was supposed to happen?” asked Rey, circling around the open space in the center of the atrium. “It doesn’t look as though any preparations were made for it.”

“I know I’m not an expert on safety for little kids, but isn’t a huge open pit without any railings kind of a bad idea?” Poe slid himself close to the edge where the floor met the open core to look down into the spiraling levels below. 

“We’re not here to go exploring, Spicy,” Muran snapped, staying near the outer edge with his blaster held securely in both hands and looking at the multiple corridors leading away from the atrium. “We need to find the bridge and get back to the ships.”

“I think this is it,” said Finn as he approached a large door built into the support column directly opposite the descending walkway to the next level in the circular atrium. But when he pushed the request button, the doors didn’t slide. There was no sound of an approaching lift, or any lights to indicate the request was received.

Muran stepped in to investigate the delay. “Damn it. They either cut the power or denied authorization without a key code. BeeBee-Ate, can you override it?”

< _Affirmative,_ > as the little droid rolled forward to begin working at the control panel. 

“How far down does it go?” asked Poe, still looking into the pit.

“Ten levels. The little kids stayed on the lower circles.” Finn drifted closer to the edge, trying to peer down into the darkness below. Then he swallowed, suddenly dredging a memory from behind the bricked-up room where he had stored it, long ago: a pile of white armor, limbs at incorrect angles, blood slowly dribbling out of a small, upturned nose, eyes frozen open. He wondered how old he had been, on the early morning they had marched from their barracks to the firing ranges on the other side of the atrium and saw the Trooper face-down on the ground, framed in a perfect circle of white light. ( _Was I five? Six?_ ) The Trooper on the ground wasn't wearing his helmet. He’d had bright, orange-colored hair. It was the first dead body he had ever seen. 

He swallowed again, and just before he forced the memory back inside the room to brick it up again, something occurred to him. His unit had been marched _past_ the body. There hadn’t been any other Troopers standing around, no officers, no medical staff. No investigation or cleanup crew. There were surveillance cameras in every corner of the facility, constant rounds and rotations of patrol and inspections. There was no way his death was a surprise. The body could have been removed and the area cleaned within minutes. It had never occurred to him before (why would it? Why would any of it make more or less sense than anything else that had happened to him?), but he and his little unit had been marched by that body on purpose. Perhaps they had been told why, at the time, though he couldn’t remember it now. All he remembered was the red blood on the white armor and the black floor, in the light.

Rey crept up beside him. “Are you all right?” Clearly, she had sensed his distress.

“I’m fine.” Finn could hear the tightness in his voice. “Just remembered something...unpleasant, that’s all.”

< _Negative_ ,> BB-8 beeped suddenly, sounding frustrated. < _Deficiency in available access codes; slicing ineffective. Continue attempts? > _

Muran growled in his throat, and whirled around to Finn. “Is there another way up? A back way?”

“Maybe,” said Finn. “We might be able to climb up the maintenance shaft, if I can find it.”

“Ah, my time to shine,” said Rey with a small smile. She patted his shoulder, very lightly, and then fell a pace behind as they set off again. 

They made their way down half a narrow passageway before Finn’s memory jogged a different direction, and they retraced their steps back to one of the main corridors. It was a little hard to navigate properly, between the flashing red lights, the darkening shadows, the eerie stillness, the crowded memories.

“What are those?” Poe asked as they passed a series of square columns lining the corridor. The lower third was built from the same black-coated durasteel as the rest of the base’s walls, but at about chest-height the casing turned to transparisteel for the remainder of the column up to the ceiling.

Muran snorted. “Are you on a walking tour or something? Want me to take your holo?”

“Shut up, Muran.”

“Punishment columns,” said Finn, without looking at the columns or the pilots. “We must be near the mess.”

“Punishment?”

“Minor infractions,” said Finn, pausing to look around a junction. “Deficient performance, uniform violation, stuff like that.” He finally looked over at one of the columns, surprised to see the dim white light in the ceiling was still creating a halo on the pedestal, a strangely angelic space amidst all the red, even if it was a little spooky to see it empty. “There’s a door around the back, you just climb up and stand at attention for as long as they tell you to.”

“In your armor?” asked Poe, stepping closer to look.

“Well, yeah, of course,” said Finn. “Armor, blaster, all of it. But not the helmet."

"So people knew who was being punished?"

"Well, we would have known anyway. More so you had to keep your face at attention, too. No talking to yourself to pass the time."

“For how long?” Poe glanced over his shoulder at him. “I mean, how long did they usually make you?”

Finn shrugged. “Usually 8 to 10 hours...maybe 24, if you back-talked an officer. One of the Troopers in the FH unit got 36 hours once, but I never found out why.” There had been rumors, of course, and far too many jokes about missing codpieces during uniform inspection. But he never knew for certain.

“36 hours? Standing there?” Poe furrowed his eyebrows. “What happens if you fall asleep?”

“Yeah, don’t do that,” said Finn, choosing the right-hand corridor. They passed the mess, open and empty rows of shiny black tables and benches. They passed another set of punishment columns. And then, as though Finn’s feet were again moving him without conscious thought, he turned from the main corridor directly into the next room.

“Is this it? Wait, what is this?” Poe asked, standing just behind Finn’s back (the front of his arm just brushing Finn's elbow, close enough to feel the ghost of warmth and solidity) and peering over his shoulder. 

“Conditioning room,” said Finn. He took a step inside, and then the lights came on: bright, harsh, blinding, washing out the shadows but not replacing the red warning lights. Instead of red-on-black, now there was red-on-white; a different kind of headache, a different kind of strange emptiness. 

It was a long, narrow room. There was a cabinet of supplies near the door, locked of course, but Finn knew it contained vials and syringes and wires and knobs and buttons and replacement parts. Stretched out ahead were two rows of inky-black chairs, facing each other in a long line, ten chairs in each row. The chairs had adjustable restraints at the arms and legs, a series of wires sticking out of the back of the chair and cascading onto the seat, and a wire-and-metal crown resting on the top.

“Gods and sunsets,” he heard Poe whisper behind him. “Finn…”

Finn didn’t bother responding. He walked into the room slowly, straight down the empty center between the rows of chairs, until he came to the eighth chair on the left side. “This one.”

He felt Poe take a step toward him, but no closer. Rey was lingering in the doorway; Muran was pacing outside, muttering to himself. No one seemed to want to come nearer to the contents of the room. Finn didn’t blame them one bit.

“This one was mine,” he clarified, even though no one had asked him. “I was always in this one. Even on the lower levels. Eighth on the left.”

“What did they do?” Poe asked in a low, angry voice. "The-- the conditioning?"

“There were different kinds,” said Finn. His voice sounded like it was coming from somewhere else, outside his body. He had a brief, but intense, ache of missing Threepio. Someone neutral and charming who would have loved to explain these things to a captivated, if disturbed, audience. “Some sort of intravenous chemical compound, and then usually an audial overlay. Sometimes there was visual, too, but the chemical compound often induced...uh, induced a certain type of...um…”

“Hallucination?” Poe suggested, still in his dangerous tone. For a moment, Finn didn’t recognize the broiling scarlet rage rippling off of him. It was the same color as the overhead lights.

“Yeah,” Finn nodded, circling around the side of Chair Eight. “Sometimes. And then this thing would-”

The moment he touched the wire crown on the headrest of the chair, everything snapped.

It was a rush of so many images at once he nearly vomited from the sudden crush, images from every day and every week and every year flashing one-by-one through his mind, faster and more dizzying than any of the Force colors had ever been. There were hundreds of them, thousands and thousands, all in the chair. Dark skin light skin (pain) pink skin reddish and pale and tall enough to lean her neck against the headrest and (calm) and short enough that the crown didn't quite reach and he had to straighten his spine, which (pain) and he always craved the pain, he wanted that one the most, would watch for the boy in the first chair when he needle went into his arm to see if he screamed or faded into bliss and he would beg the universe for the (pain) because then he was himself, he was in his own mind, he wasn't (calm) stay calm they didn't know about last night, they can't hear you during conditioning, it only goes one way and no one knows what you did (calm) and (pain) and (calm) and

_Pain (make it stop) (this is disorder)-_

_Calm (this is order) (don’t trust it)-_

_Pain calm chaos please please don’t make it hurt anymore, I am loyal, I am loyal, I serve the First Order, peace through order, I am calm, I'm talking to myself, please-_

“Finn!”

“Peace through order, I serve the First Order, I am loyal, peace through order-”

“Finn, can you hear me?” Warm hands on his face, small hands, smooth hands, hands that exchanged a staff for a blade, hands that wouldn’t touch his hands, not at first, not until-

“Please,” he was begging, “Please, make it stop. I'm loyal. I serve the First Order.” _Pain (make it stop) pain (this is disorder) calm (you will lose yourself) calm (there is only order)_

“Come back, Finn. Come back to us.”

“Finn? Come on, buddy, please.”

Finn opened his eyes to hazel and brown, warm and scared and far too close. “You don’t have to do this,” he said. “I’m loyal.” _You are the weapon you are the cudgel you are the instrument you are the order stop stop stop I want to go home (a thousand voices) I serve the First Order (a thousand times)_. “Peace through order. There will be peace through order.”

He finally passed out then, into sweet and comforting black.

***

He woke to raised voices.

“If we don’t cut that dampening field, we’ll be picked off the moment they drop out of-”

“Wouldn’t they have attacked by now? There’s still no sign of anyone, no attack, no exchange, nothing. Maybe they just bugged out.”

“You really want to take that risk? We’ve got to get to the bridge _now_ and-”

“How long will the _Ligeia_ wait to send backup if you don’t check in? They’d have eight minutes to see that the First Order ship isn’t here and that we’re not answering comms-”

Poe and Muran arguing, again. “Guys, give it a rest,” Finn murmured, his eyes still closed. His head was throbbing. "Were you always like this?"

Rey immediately tightened her grip on his hand (Oh, she was holding his hand. Why did that always feel like a precious gift?) and put her other hand, warm and soft, on his forehead. “Ssh, don’t try to move right away,” she said as he shifted. “How do you feel?”

“Like I got run over by a speeder,” said Finn, trying to swallow the nausea as the colors began to filter in through the black, swirling around the back of his eyelids. 

“Finn!” Poe collapsed somewhere in the vicinity of his feet, a solid grip on his ankle. “Finn, buddy, you with us? You okay? Are you hurt? What happened?”

Finn opened his eyes. His head was cradled in Rey’s lap; he was on the floor. She was staring down at him, one hand still on his forehead, the other clasped tight in his hand, more worried than he’d ever seen her before. “I’m fine.” He swallowed carefully, not quite wanting to meet anyone’s eyes. “Did I…? I think I went a little...crazy for a minute there.”

“You touched the chair,” said Rey. “It happened when you touched the chair, didn’t it?”

Finn did look at her then. “What was that?”

“What was it for you?” she asked.

“It was…” Finn shifted, trying to sit up. Poe reached an arm out to him, but didn’t close the distance between them, letting Rey hold his shoulders and keep him steady. “It was...weird. I’ve never-- it was like all the conditioning sessions I ever had there, all at once. But it wasn’t just me,” and he looked at Rey again. “It was...it was everyone. Everyone who sat in that chair. All of them. All at once.”

Rey’s eyes slowly widened. “A Force echo,” she said quietly.

“What’s that?”

“Well, according to the texts, it’s very rare,” said Rey, slowly sliding back from Finn once he seemed stable enough to hold his own weight. “If it was an echo, the Force was showing you what happened here _through_ that object.”

“Or, you had a seizure,” said Muran, looming tall behind Poe, “Which is what it looked like to me.”

“I guess it could be both,” said Finn. That certainly seemed as probable as suddenly having a rare and terrifying Force ability. Probably preferable.

"We don't have time for this," Muran spun on his heels and stalked out of the room. "Come on, BeeBee-Ate, help me find that maintenance shaft."

BB-8 moaned indecisively, swiveling between Finn and Poe and Muran, clearly wondering what to do and who to follow. He rolled closer to Finn, burbling out another worried sound.

Poe ignored them both, white-faced and intently focused on Finn. He still had a hand half-stretched toward him, resting just next to his leg on the floor. "You sure you're okay? Kriff, that scared the fuck out of me."

"Sorry," said Finn, still feeling woozy and sick. "I...what did I say? My head hurts."

"Let's get you back to the _Falcon_ ," said Poe, but he pulled his hand back to rest on his own knee rather than brushing a few millimeters to the side to touch him.

"You still stuck on that, huh?" the disappointment slipped out before he could stop it, but he managed to hold back the rest ( _coward, you're a coward, just touch me, do you think I'd actually hurt you? (But how do I know I wouldn't…?) No, I wouldn’t, I wouldn’t, I’m not like them anymore, I was never (peace through order) no-)_

"What?" Poe looked confused.

"Forget it," said Finn, shaking his head even as that churned his stomach. "I'm fine."

"Finn, it could have been a seizure. We need to get you to a doctor."

"I'll be fine," he repeated. "Muran's right, we need to get up to the bridge. Something's coming."

"Now?" Poe looked up, instinctively scanning for sounds of engines or docking or blasters.

"No, not right now," said Finn. He pitched forward a little, getting both hands flat on the floor for support before he tried to climb to his feet. Rey grasped his shoulders. "But soon. I think-- can you feel it?" He looked at Rey.

Her face was still grave, uncertain and wary. "I don't know, Finn. We're in rather uncharted territory, as far as my understanding goes." 

“Okay,” said Finn, more to himself than anyone else. He let out a deep breath, waiting a few seconds in hopes that the throbbing in his head would lessen once his body adjusted to being upright. It did not. “Okay. Let’s get to the bridge.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Again, reaching out that hand. Again, touching him so lightly, like he was made of glass, like his skin would sting. Finn tried not to be angry about it. Tried to remind himself that if Poe didn’t want to touch him, that was _Finn’s_ fault. It was difficult. He could feel how he wanted to lash out, how he wanted to deflect from the terror still pumping through the blood in his veins, rage that he didn't _ask_ for this and he was _trying_ , but he held himself back. Tried to focus on Poe's words ( _he still loves you, he said he loves you_ ). He tried to make that be enough. 

Sometimes, Finn thought, if he let himself be angry at any point, at any moment, he would never, ever, ever be able to stop.

“Let’s go,” said Finn, setting his jaw and refusing to look at the chairs. 

They returned to the red-lit corridors. Poe walked close beside him. A few paces down from the conditioning room, they found the ventilation shaft and the narrow ladder rungs that led up into it for maintenance and inspections. 

Rey pulled it open and inspected the tunnels. “They’re narrow,” she said, with her head still stuck inside. “But I don’t believe anyone else needs to come with me. I’ll disable the dampening field, re-activate the lifts, and meet you back in the hangar.”

“What about-” Poe started.

“Get Finn back to the _Falcon_ ,” said Rey, voice echoing from halfway into the maintenance shaft now. “You should be ready to leave as soon as the comms are restored.”

“Let’s move out,” said Muran, his heavy boots already thumping back down the corridor at a brisk walk. Finn and Poe followed, BB-8 rolling back and forth between them, retracing their steps onto the main hallway to the atrium.

After a moment, Poe leaned over and asked, quietly, “You really sure you’re okay?” But before Finn could get annoyed that he kept asking the same question, he looked over and saw that Poe's face was pained, clearly worried, pale white-and-pink ripples edged in nervous purple. 

“Not really,” Finn breathed out, chuckling a little at the absurdity of the situation.

“I’m gonna get you out of here,” said Poe. He stared ahead again, to glare at a punishment column with fire in his eyes. “I prom-- I will.”

Finn nodded a little, and swallowed a sigh. Then, daring to risk it, not really sure if it was bravery or desperation, he reached out his hand without looking over, staring ahead at the flashing lights with his hand suspended in the blank space between them, waiting with his heart in his throat until Poe noticed and lightly brushed their fingers together. The touch was accompanied by a thin wisp of soft, velvety red Force-color.

Poe was just starting to wrap his fingers more tightly around Finn’s palm, when he skidded to a stop and frowned at a doorway just ahead of them, barely visible around the curve of the corridor. He retracted his hand and slipped it onto the butt of his blaster. “Wait, what’s that light over there?”

“What light?” Muran halted ahead of them.

Then, the faint sound of a thin, reedy voice.

They flattened themselves against the walls. Poe motioned from the back of the corridor, where it was just possible to see an open doorway spilling a pool of pale green light onto the dark floor. Then he pointed toward the doorway and raised his own blaster, setting his shoulders alongside Muran and stepping carefully forward. He glanced once at Finn, nodding his head to the other side, and Finn unholstered his own blaster to take up a defensive position behind them, guarding the hall.

Poe entered the room with blaster drawn, followed immediately by Muran. “It’s empty,” Finn heard him report.

“Then who was talking?”

“Wait, is that an info-panel?” said Muran, with a kind of hungry awe. 

Finn holstered his blaster and slipped into the room after them. He only had to take two steps before he registered where they were: an enormous, elbow-shaped room, completely empty save for the squarish black info-panel in the corner, which was currently emitting bright, yellowish-green light from the view screen. The walls were shiny, silver durasteel, pocketed with little black lenses approximately the same size as the one in BB-8’s dome, and the ceiling was laid with rows of the same little white-halo lights from the top of the punishment columns. Muran and Poe were both standing at the info-panel, Poe tilting his shoulder around Muran, half-curled at his side to look down at the screen and its controls. 

“We have to get out of here, right now,” said Finn, and his voice had that strange, out-of-body sound to his ears again. His feet felt like lead. He couldn’t move.

“Why?” Poe turned to look at him. “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t touch that!” Finn shouted, finally forcing himself to move, to step toward Muran. But of course it was too late. Muran pressed a key on the info-panel, and the door immediately slid shut. The lights went out; only the ghostly green light reflecting off their faces. 

“Oh no.” Finn turned. There was no keypad on the inside of the door; it could only be opened by authorized officers from the info-panel, but he hunted for one anyway. _Don’t panic don’t panic don’t panic don’t panic don’t panic_ \- “Muran, get the door open. We have to get out of here.” 

“I’m trying,” said Muran, furiously smashing the controls and uselessly flipping toggles. “It’s locked now, nothing’s responding. Where’s BeeBee-Ate?”

“Damn it, he’s outside,” said Poe, and Finn vaguely felt him brushing his side. “Finn, what’s going on?”

“Now, right now. Get the door open,” Finn kept insisting, knew he sounded frantic, forcibly stopping himself from throwing his shoulder against the door. _Peace through order. There is peace through order._ “It’s the sim room.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter-specific content warning for references to and descriptions of violence against children. 

“Just stay calm, okay buddy?” Poe’s heart was racing. Finn made a frustrated sound and slammed his hand, palm-flat, against the door. “BeeBee-Ate’s probably just outside, let me get him.”

Finn launched away from the door, pacing back and forth along the wall and clenching his hands into fists. He was muttering something under his breath, but Poe couldn’t quite understand him. 

Poe crouched down near the bottom of the door and cupped his hands around his mouth to yell through the thick steel. “BeeBee! Can you hear me? We’re trapped in here, can you override the door codes?”

He thought he heard some affirmative beeping noises, but he couldn’t quite tell if that was real or imagined. “Muran, any luck?”

“Everything’s locked,” said Muran, still working calmly at the info-panel. Then, “Wait. There’s some sort of report now.”

“A what?”

“ _FN Unit Application for Advanced Training_ ,” Muran read off the screen. “What’s that, Baby-Face?”

“Don’t,” said Poe, at the same time that Finn said, “I don’t know.”

Muran hit a button and then, suddenly, the walls around them lit up with multiple projections: layers upon layers of screens, information scrolling in tight lines and tiny script, small squares of holovids stacked on top of each other, floor to ceiling, playing montages and compilations of small soldiers with small blasters. “Damn it, Muran!” Poe snapped, rising up off the ground.

“I canceled out of it!” he insisted. “I swear, I didn’t-”

“Captain Phasma.” Poe nearly jumped two feet in the air, snapping his blaster up into an attack position, before he realized it was a recording - a recording that sounded like the speaker was standing next to him. It was the same nasally voice he’d heard in the main corridor, the one that had drawn them into this room in the first place. “I enclose with this message the dossiers of the FN unit members deemed qualified to progress to the advanced training you intend to oversee personally. As we discussed, I believe this unit has the potential to create the finest corps of soldiers that the First Order has trained to date. I await your recommendations.” 

“FN,” Poe repeated. “Finn, that’s your unit?”

“Yeah,” said Finn. “I don’t understand.” He seemed momentarily calmer, or at least taken aback, as he took in the myriad images flashing around the room and drifted a step closer to the wall to examine one of the data screens. “Huh. These are our stats from the first quarter of Level Five. Nines finally beat Zeroes’ obstacle course time. He wouldn’t shut up about that for weeks.”

The layers of holovids showed a variety of actions and activities, and Poe hunted for Finn in each one: small children marching in long rows (Finn, straight-backed and solemn; _he’s been wearing that serious expression since he was six_ ), firing blasters at a variety of targets ( _stars, they can’t be older than four there_ ; Finn’s ears stuck out under his closely-shaved head), climbing ropes to the top of an enormous gymnasium (Finn was smiling as he slid back down), and running in elaborate formations. Older children sparring with each other (Finn easily took down one of his opponents with a kick under the ankles, and then immediately offered a solid hand to pull them back up again), firing different types of weapons. Rows of white-shelled Stormtroopers, their ages indeterminable. “These are your squadmates?” 

“Uh-huh. That’s Slip,” Finn pointed at a short, nondescript boy with light brown hair and plain features in the holovid closest to him. “And that’s me, obviously. This is so weird…I had no idea they recorded this much stuff.”

“Son of a bitch.” Poe felt his fists clenching. “Muran, did the First Order only agree to this stupid prisoner exchange _after_ you promised that Finn would be the one to do it?”

“I had nothing to do with it,” Muran said defensively. “I’m not a negotiator.”

“The Admiral then. He said this was in the works for months, and it only came together yesterday. _When you offered Finn_. Right?”

“I wasn’t there. I don’t know what the Admiral offered.”

“Don’t fucking lie to me, Muran,” through clenched teeth, “This entire scheme puts Finn right back in the hands of the-”

“I don’t give a shit about the Stormtrooper, Spicy. I was trying to get you.”

“Get me how?” Poe stared at him. “Are you serious? You seriously thought that we would just-”

“Not like _that_ ,” said Muran, though Poe could swear he saw his face redden slightly. “Get you on my team. Get you back in the action. Get you flying.”

“Oh sure, this was about my _career_. I can’t believe you would-”

“I do care about your career! Just because you seem content to cut off your own balls just to spite the Republic is no reason why-”

“Fuck all that, we’ve got to get him out of here!” said Poe, feeling a little desperate and very angry. “This entire mission was just a trap for Finn, to keep us occupied, probably until they can send someone to execute him for defecting. What the hell are you guys playing at?”

“She knew.” And even though Finn was whispering, the seriousness in his tone cut through Poe’s fury in an instant. He whirled to see Finn inspecting a data set on the other side of the room, leaning close to the text. “Phasma knew where I…I was…” Finn swallowed heavily. “They took me when I was twelve weeks old. From Formos.”

Poe felt similarly shocked. _Formos? Fucking Formos?? I’ve been there. It’s on the Kessel run, I spent three days in a bar waiting for a contact there, playing sabacc._

“No, wait,” Finn squinted his eyes as he read more closely. “They didn’t take me. They bought me.”

“What?” Poe quickly moved across the length of the room to stand next to him. “Where does it say that?”

Finn pointed at the line of text. “Fifty credit recruitment fee issued to...of course, the names are removed.” He shook his head. “Guess my parents needed money.”

 _Formos. I’ve been there_ . There were whole families living in the alleys, behind the cantinas and the packing warehouses, begging for an ounce, begging for the dust at the bottom of the crate, sending the children out for food and scraps and charity. He’d seen it. Been briefly sad and briefly uncomfortable by their large eyes and ragged clothes, handed one of them a few credits from his pocket and then he’d gone inside a bar and waited for a contact so he could fly, freedom and excitement, looking up to the stars and not down underfoot. (“ _The spice is cheaper than milk here_ ,” Zorii had shrugged when he’d asked her about it. “ _Don’t look so shocked, farm boy. At least the Hutts don’t come here as often as they used to._ ”) And there were also pawn shops and dealers and middle-men, looking to fleece and skim off the top and resell, looking for easy pickings and quick transactions.

Poe looked away, at the soundless montage of holo footage flashing everywhere around them. “They could have paid someone to steal you for them,” he said. “It doesn’t mean that your parents-- there’s a lot of shady characters on Formos.”

“Well, you won the marksmanship prize in every quarter competition in Level 6,” said Muran, glancing at the specs listed above the info-panel. “So you’ve got that going for you.”

Finn didn’t respond, just kept reading through the list of statistics and data about the other Troopers in his unit. 

Poe found himself looking over Finn’s shoulder to focus on one of the holovids playing in the corner: a group of pre-teen boys (wait, no, there are girls, too; the shaved heads were deceptive) in what looked to Poe’s inexpert eye to be lighter weight, training versions of Stormtrooper armor. They were flexible plates of pale gray quilted leather, rather than the hard-white plastoid, and the panels didn’t fully cover the limbs. Only a breastplate, shoulder coverings, and gauntlets. They stood in a line, the camera placed above them in the ceiling, standard-issue blasters in their arms.

Finn was immediately identifiable: the only child with skin that dark, and deep brown, sad eyes. His face and shoulders were round, flushed with baby-fat, and he stood a little shorter than the other boys; clearly, he was about to have a growth spurt in height. Poe guessed he was around 11 or 12. But even as Finn focused his gaze onto the target ahead of him, his expression a steel, blank mask, his eyes were still so sad. Poe felt something break inside him a little when he saw those eyes. He suddenly couldn’t look at anything else.

A helmeted Stormtrooper with a red pauldron lowered his raised arm. “Fire!” he heard faintly, the volume projecting only from a speaker close to the screen itself, and the row of child soldiers lit up their blasters. The Trooper paced back and forth behind them, and then suddenly swooped close to Finn, crouching close to his ear. “Is there something wrong with your eyesight today, FN-2187?”

“Sir, no sir,” said Finn. His voice hadn’t finished dropping yet, still high in places. “I can do it, sir.”

The trooper straightened, and then suddenly unholstered his blaster pistol and pressed it tight against Finn’s temple. Then he leaned in close again. “You have one more shot, FN-2187. I suggest you focus.”

Finn didn’t move a muscle; neither did the others. They stood in lock-step, blasters still raised in position, perhaps with scared eyes or curious eyes, or simply ‘desperate to be ignored’ eyes. But none of them moved. Except Finn, who seemed to take a careful breath and a single glance toward the Trooper’s blaster. Then, still without moving any other muscle in his face, Finn returned his gaze to the target ahead of him and re-squared his shoulders. Then he fired. And then again, and then six or seven times in quick succession, each shot hitting the target in the perfect center. And then the holovid paused, just at the moment when the very edge of Finn’s mouth twitched up, and the sadness in his eyes lifted like the sun breaking through early morning fog.

“Please get me out of here,” Finn said suddenly, the Finn trapped in this room, voice strangled in the back of his throat. 

“BeeBee-Ate, how’s it coming?” Poe ran back to the door, bracing his ear against the cold wall and straining to hear any beeping response from his droid. “If you can’t get through with the override, go get Rey. Ya hear me? Go get Rey!”

“I think I’ve got something,” said Muran, still working stone-faced at the info-panel. 

“Muran, wait-”

The room plunged into darkness again, briefly. And then the lights came up and they were outside, planet-side, in a warm and hazy sunshine, sky stretching around them without limit. They were standing in the remnants of a ruined village choked with smoke and crumbling infrastructure, and the distant barrage of aerial bombs and blaster fire. The scene was so realistic that Poe had to ask himself, several times, if the First Order had somehow just invented transporter technology...until he realized that his lungs weren’t filling with the smoke and dust, no sulfuric smell from the bombs, no sticky residue on his fingertips from the particulate in the air. This was a sim.

“Turn it off,” Finn demanded, looking at Muran with fear, and thinly-concealed anger, in his eyes. “Right now, I need you to turn it off.”

“Do you see the info-panel here?” Muran snapped back, throwing his hands out into the empty space in front of him in the wild hope of landing on the panel.

A handful of what appeared to be fully-grown Stormtroopers, white armor charred with dirt and ash, were picking their way through the street ahead of them. Poe instinctively shifted away, to get out of sight, but of course it was a sim. It was a recording of a sim. The Troopers couldn’t see them.

“Clear,” said the foremost Trooper as he surveyed around a broken wall; the voice was Finn's, deeper now, though slightly obscured by the gravel in his throat and the muffling of the helmet. 

Between the smoke, and the helmets, and the blur of the Troopers' movements, Poe found it difficult to keep track of Finn as the squad dashed through the streets. Somehow, barely moving his feet to follow along, the recording (how were they both inside the recording and watching the recording? He’d never seen tech like this before) kept pace with the unit. But then he saw a Trooper try to hop the low wall that the others had filed around, catching his shin on the edge and sprawling out flat on his face.

“Wait!” the Trooper coughed, and then he rolled into a protective ball as rapid blaster fire erupted from the rooftops above him. He tried to stand, but had injured himself somehow and tripped again on a large piece of rubble that sent him sprawling a second time. 

And then there was Finn, doubling-back to tuck an arm under Slip’s shoulder and pull him into an abandoned house with a blown-out door. “Take them out,” said Finn, shoving the blaster back into Slip’s hands. “Second wave will need cover.”

Slip nodded, propping himself up just inside the doorway, and crouched into position to fire at the assailant on the rooftop as Finn jogged back into the street. He rejoined three other members of the squadron at another choke point on the edge of a wide plaza, sheltering behind the burned-out husk of an overturned speeder. “Nines! What’s the hold-up?” he asked.

“Trap, I think,” said Nines, pointing ahead. “Designed to send us through the children, make us think that’s the safe route, and then funnel us into either a bomb or an ambush on the other side. I’ve sent FN-1727 to investigate the side passage that way-” he pointed to the right, “-but everything to the left is blocked. Where’s Slip?”

“Covering the second wave,” said Finn.

Nines grunted a little. “What’d he do this time?”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Finn. 

“You keep doing that, and you’re gonna drag us all down.”

“Well, we’re not getting anywhere right now.” Finn looked ahead, and as the smoke cleared in the plaza square, dark red tiles flecked with white mosaic work, Poe could just make out a small group of very young children. He didn’t see a single one that he would guess was over the age of seven. It was unnerving to see small children playing in the middle of a war zone, without any adults or parents in sight, but they were skipping rocks and circling each other in a tag-like game that involved hiding in the abandoned market stalls. Three toddler girls were playing with rag dolls; two slightly older boys were throwing dice. The more he watched, the more Poe got used to the fact that this was a presentation; an illustration of children at play, rather than an actual event. He still had to keep reminding himself, though, as his brain clearly wanted to default to accepting his surroundings as real. 

“How much time have we got left?” asked Finn.

Nines checked a chrono at his belt. “Six minutes. Should we go right, you think?”

Finn shook his head, and straightened. “No, that’s the trap,” he said and just then, as though to punctuate his sentence, something exploded in the direction where Nines had sent the scout. “This one is the test.” And Finn stood up and walked brazenly into the center of the square.

“Eight-Seven!” Nines called after him. “Wait, Eight-Seven!”

Finn ignored him. He was approaching the children now, walking at a calm and centered pace, holding his blaster at his chest but without aiming it. “Where is the council building?” he asked the oldest child.

The child startled and looked up at him with wide, terribly frightened eyes, then pointed across the square and started to back away. “That way. Go that way. Come on, Rita, we should go home,” and he turned to pick up one of the toddlers with similar dark hair and eyes. “Thanks, Mr. Trooper. We’ll go home now.”

As the boy turned, the back of his coat revealed a faded, embroidered blue phoenix circled by white stars and edged in gold piping. Finn immediately shot him in the back of the head, and then when he collapsed onto the little girl, an impossibly small bundle on the ground, he turned the boy’s body over with his foot and shot her, too. Her Republic phoenix was embroidered on the front of her dress. One by one, he turned in a circle and shot every single child with ruthless efficiency, even as they screamed and cried and huddled down into a small heap with arms wrapped around each other, trying to bury themselves in the stone, trying to run for the safety of the market stalls or the blocked-off alley-ways, but they were small and scattered, and Finn was big and merciless. Poe was intensely grateful that he was wearing the helmet; that he didn’t have to see Finn’s eyes.

“Force’s hell,” Muran gasped next to him, and then Finn, the real Finn, the Finn on his other side raised his blaster and fired directly at the recording of his simulated image.

The sim froze, then the image crackled (and it was like the inside of Poe’s brain rippled, like a bad videocomm signal or drifting too close to a hyperspace wake). Finn fired rapidly at himself, multiple times, and then the image disappeared entirely. 

They were back in the empty room. Finn’s blaster was smoking, real smoke in the air because he was still firing, each shot hitting the info-panel in the corner, blowing holes in the steel and wire and transparisteel viewing screen, hot, melting pieces flying through the room, and in the dim emergency light (flashing red, flashing white) Poe could just barely see that same cold mask dropped over Finn, like he was deep at the bottom of a well, and he continued to fire and the info-port smoked, until Muran finally yelled, “Okay, Baby-Face, I think you got it.” 

Finn shook all over. He dropped his blaster, dropped to his knees, swallowing carefully, then gulping air, dry heaving with his hands flat on the floor. Poe gently crouched next to him and hovered an arm above his shoulder. Then, just before he pressed his hand down, Finn jerked away.

“Don’t get too close,” said Finn, voice flat, eyes staring into vacant space. “I’m a monster.”

Muran rolled his eyes, and then seemed to perk up his ears and darted around to the closed door. “Storm Cloud, is that you?”

“You’re not a monster,” Poe said quietly, still leaning close to him. Finn didn’t move. “It was a simulation.”

“They were little kids. I killed little kids. Me. I killed them.”

“It was a simulation,” Poe repeated. He shifted his feet to shuffle even closer, just pressing the edges of their shoulders together. “You knew it was a simulation. You knew that was the test. You couldn’t do it when it was real, remember?”

“Doesn’t matter. It felt real. I remember it, it felt real. I should have just let them kill me.”

“Well, you’re never going to get me to agree with that, buddy,” said Poe. He was surprised at how calm he sounded, given the rage and boiling adrenaline churning in his stomach. _I am going to raze this base to the planet once we’re airborne again. I’ll burn it all down._ “It was a simulation. Even if it felt that way, none of that was real. You knew it wasn’t real.”

“Should have said no. There’s a...there's a line of-- of human decency, and this-”

“You did what you had to do to survive.”

“I don’t ever want to kill anybody, ever again,” said Finn, his voice shaking now.

“You don’t have to,” said Poe. “We’ll hang up the blaster now. It’s done. You don’t have to anymore.” Again, he tried to slowly, gently touch his shoulder, and this time, Finn didn’t evade. He didn’t move closer, he didn’t really even seem to register the touch, but he didn’t move away either. Poe let his hand rest there, rubbing the coarse canvas of the New Republic vest lightly with his thumb. _I’m gonna get you out of here. I promise. And then I will burn it down._

A bright yellow laser beam burst through the door with an ear-splitting screech, slowly cutting a vaguely human-shaped hole in the durasteel with crackling static and bright red sparks. Muran stepped back just in time to avoid being crushed by the steel as it was kicked in by a small, soft leather boot. “Are you all right?” Rey called as she poked her head through the hole. BB-8 cheered supportively at her feet.

“Did you get the comms back up?” asked Muran.

“Yes,” she nodded. “Chewie says there’s still no sign of the First Order, but I have a feeling that-”

“ _Get down here, now_ ,” Chewie’s roar came over the commlink at Rey’s belt. “ _Two Star Destroyers just jumped into orbit and the TIEs are already-_ ”

“ _Attention: Traitors,_ ” a smooth, prim-sounding voice suddenly sounded through a speaker in the ceiling. “ _You have betrayed and conspired against the First Order. You will be terminated. There will be no negotiation. Attention: Traitors_ ,” and the message repeated.

Finn barely registered the sounds of his promised execution. He hadn’t moved.

“Come on, hon,” Poe patted his shoulder, straightening up. “Time to go.”

Finn crouched there for another moment, statue-still, but just before Poe stooped down again to help him to his feet, he stood up. He left his blaster on the floor. Poe had a moment’s thought to pick it up, just in case, just for extra cover, but he left it there, still warm. Finn walked out the hole in the door in a daze (“Finn?” Rey frowned as he passed her) and down the hallway, back straight and eyes blank.

Muran paused until Poe made to follow, and then shook his head. “Damn, Spicy. You sure do have a type, don’t you?”

***

“Go get her ready, I’ll catch up!” Poe shouted to BB-8, who was rolling at top speed back through the atrium. Their boots stampeded wildly through the corridors, the flashing lights overlaid with the proximity alerts and the continued announcement of their impending death. Explosions in the lower decks rocked the floor under their feet.

The droid was halfway across the hangar toward their X-wing by the time Poe, Rey, and Muran burst after him (Poe and Rey taking turns, every so often, to glance behind them to ensure that Finn was still following). Finn was keeping up, even at their frantic pace, but he somehow looked closer to jogging in place than a pell-mell run for the ships. His eyes were still distant and glassy, fixed only on the steps in front of him.

“ _Come on!_ ” Chewie was howling from the top of the gangplank of the _Falcon_. 

“Where’s the kid?” Poe shouted.

“ _She’s on board. Let’s go!_ ”

“Rey, get her back to the _Ligeia_ ,” said Poe, shouting louder as he veered away from the _Falcon_ toward his ship. BB-8 had already activated the engines. “I’ll stay on your wing.”

Muran split off in the other direction. “I’ll call for backup as soon as-”

A TIE swooped past the landing bay, scoring its canons along the side of the base and landing a perfect hit onto Muran’s ship. It exploded in a rush of bright heat, and Poe dropped to the floor, covering his head with his hands as fire and metal flew overhead or clattered nearby. Little bits of hot steel and ash drifted down into his hair, burning his fingertips as he quickly brushed them away.

He was already coughing after the initial blast had passed and he started to lift his head. “Finn?” He staggered to his feet in the thick, choking smoke and vaguely saw the dark outline of his own X-wing and the _Falcon_ , standing without any apparent damage save for the charring from the burning hangar and flying wreckage. “Rey? Finn!?”

He doubled over, coughing again, and wiped the smoke out of his eyes as he stumbled toward the _Falcon_. He saw Finn on his hands and knees at the base of the boarding ramp. Rey’s slim form was helping him to his feet. “I’ll get him on board!” she shouted to Poe. It was hard to hear her over the crackling fire and the execution-alert still broadcasting loudly from the overhead speakers. “Go!”

“Is he okay?” Poe tried to force his feet to move faster. “Finn, are you hurt?”

Rey waved him back as she pulled Finn up the ramp. “He’s fine, I’ve got him!” 

“Where’s Muran?” And then, the smoke cleared enough to show Muran’s long body on the other side of the hangar, collapsed on the floor, arms thrown across his face, just a few feet away from the smoldering X-wing. He wasn’t moving.

“Muran!” Poe shouted, careening around the _Falcon_ toward him, dodging pieces of burning durasteel littered across the hangar floor.

Muran had curled onto his side, coughing, by the time Poe reached him. His face looked red and blistered, but he allowed Poe to pull him upright into a seated position, though he leaned heavily into Poe’s chest. “Gotta get out of here,” Muran rasped. 

“We’re going, we’re going,” said Poe, trying to pull him to his feet. He had nearly gotten him standing, Muran taking a single step toward the _Falcon_ , when he collapsed again, rolling onto his back. That was when Poe saw the blood. “Oh no.”

“Belly wound,” Muran coughed, looking down at the mess of his stomach. He had his hand slung across the electric blue flight suit, now smeared bright red, turning the wet pieces of fabric a dark purple, a piece of charred black metal just visible, half-buried in his gut. “Figures.”

“Wait, don’t touch it-” but Muran had already pulled the piece of X-wing shrapnel out with a little grunt and tossed it aside, clattering on the ash-coated floor.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.” Poe pressed his hands, palm down, into the blood, trying to apply pressure, putting his entire body into it, but he wasn’t sure what else to do without a medic, without gauze, _can I get him to the ship? He’ll die before we-_ “Rey!” he screamed, even though he had no idea if she could hear him. “Rey, I need you now!”

“Ssh, Spicy,” Muran said, slumping down onto the floor and watching him with a serene expression on his face. He was going very pale. “This won’t take long.”

“Shut up,” said Poe. The wound was seeping dark, black blood now, hot and wet and sticky. Something exploded in another section of the base. “Shut up, it’s going to be fine.”

“Sorry to do this to you, again.”

“Shut up, Muran.”

“I really am. Do you believe me?”

“Sure, Muran. I believe you. Stop talking, okay?” _Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm. Where the fuck is Rey?_ The blood was pouring out, metallic and sharp and mixed with the acrid smell of cauterized skin and muscle. The _Falcon_ ’s engines were powering up, bright light filling the hangar.

“I really did miss flying with you.” There was a smile. “No one else ever really kept up,” and he chuckled to himself. “Glad I got that one more time.”

“Shut up. Why can’t you just shut up? Rey’ll be here in a minute. She can fix this.”

“Poe.”

Poe looked at him. His face was gray, Poe knew that shade, Poe knew that color. That color of blood loss and dying capillaries and oxygen withdrawal and- “We don’t have to do this right now. You’re gonna be okay.”

Muran shook his head. “I really am sorry. For all of it.” His teeth were starting to chatter. “D-don’t why I thought you'd just know it, after...that...six years...a lot’s happened in six years. ‘M not...n-n-not the same.”

“Well, you still do that annoying nickname thing,” said Poe. _Stay calm, stay calm._

Muran grinned, and his teeth were painted red. “We can’t all be naturally dashing. Some of us have to use gimmicks.” And then he laughed a little, which turned into a violent cough, drops of blood spattering his hand. “You should go.” He coughed some more and slumped back again, letting his eyes close briefly before fluttering them open once more, fixed on Poe’s face.

“Oh, shit. Oh, fuck. Muran, hang on. You hear me? Goddamn it,” said Poe, frantically trying to add pressure to the wound.

“Poe?” It was Finn, breathless, coming up behind him, crouching low to the ground, and Poe had never been so relieved to hear the calm, soothing steadiness of his voice. “I felt you freaking out, what the hell are you still doing-”

“Get Rey,” Poe shot frantically up at him. “Get Rey, hurry, hurry, get Rey. He’s fucking dying, Finn, we need to-”

But Finn was already kneeling down next to Muran, shoulder pressed against Poe, shoving Poe’s hands out of the way.

“Wait, Finn, what are you-- I’ll go get Rey,” Poe started, but then Muran said “Stay, please,” and Finn said, “Shut up, Poe,” and Poe sank back onto his knees, terrified and paralyzed.

It didn’t take long. Finn took another deep breath, closed his eyes, and rested his fingers lightly over Muran’s stomach, just the barest touch. Muran refused to close his eyes, keeping them locked on Poe, and Poe couldn’t look back, entirely focused on Finn’s hands, covered in the black blood too, now, and then Finn was breathing out, “Okay, that’s as much as I can do.”

Poe bolted forward as Muran tried to sit up, hands flat on his chest, tracing down the front of his flight suit, looking at the red, puckered, freshly-scarred skin peeking under the blood-soaked fabric. The wound was still raw, and Muran still grimaced with pain, but the bleeding had stopped. Finn let out a deep breath and swayed a little. 

“Okay, buddy, I got you,” said Poe, gripping Finn’s arm. He tucked himself under Muran’s shoulder to lift him to his feet, and pulling Finn up with his other hand wrapped tightly around his upper bicep. He wasn’t entirely certain he could brace them both, but Finn found his balance, and then slid around Poe’s waist to Muran’s other side, and then another blast of cannon fire ricocheted into the back of the hangar, and they lurched for the _Falcon_.

“Come on,” said Finn, his voice rough and low, taking all of Muran’s weight to yank him up the _Falcon_ ’s boarding ramp. “You take the upper turret, I’ll take the lower one."

Poe halted at the base of the ramp. His hands were still covered in blood. “Wait! Finn, you don’t have to do that. I can-”

“It doesn’t matter, Poe,” said Finn, and his eyes were masked again. He barely looked down. The ramp started to rise. “It's what I was made to do.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter-specific content warning for references to and descriptions of violence against children. (Last one with this warning, phew!)

The TIEs swarmed their ships the moment they returned to the sky. Within seconds of leaving the base, the Star Destroyer looming nearby finally reached full charge of its ion cannons, fired, and the dark wheel exploded under his feet. Poe couldn’t immediately see the second Destroyer, but he was so focused on charting a path through the whirlpool of ships and burning wreckage, he didn’t have much time to look around. The _Falcon_ dodged and rolled, the upper and lower blaster turrets raking fire across the stars. 

“How long until you can jump?” Poe asked.

 _“Two minutes_ ,” said Rey. 

“I’ll jump as soon as you do,” he said, trying to fly as protectively close to the ship as he could without disrupting her ability to weave through the mess of enemy fighters, dancing with the surrounding TIEs, peeling off to engage and slotting back into escort. “Least we’ve got our pick of the targets, huh BeeBee?” Poe tossed behind his shoulder as he shot through the burning wreckage of another TIE. 

< _Multiple fighters on intercept course_ ,> said BB-8. < _Sixty seconds to jump._ >

“We’ll make it,” said Poe, spinning up and around the _Falcon_ to evade a persistent fighter and score another direct hit. “What is that, five?”

< _Four kills and one disabled_.>

“Ha! Still got it. Rey, what’s your-”

“ _Just a few more seconds_ ,” said Rey. “ _We’re preparing to jump._ ”

“Right behind you.” And, thinking about Finn, _Hang in there, baby, we’re almost out of here._ This was familiar. This was terrifying. Poe found that he was smiling. 

And then another ship dropped out of hyperspace: an enormous, white cruiser. “What the…?”

“ _It’s the Ligeia_!” said Rey.

Poe whooped into the comm. “Control! Welcome to the party!” 

“ _Blue Two, where is Blue Leader?_ ”

“ _On the Falcon_ ,” said Muran, his signal scratchy from the ancient comm wires in the _Falcon_ ’s upper blaster turret. “ _TIE smoked my ship._ ”

“ _Reinforcements being deployed now. Is Lorus still in protective custody?_ ”

“ _Yeah, she’s here too._ ”

 _“Foss?_ ”

“ _No._ ”

Within seconds, the full armament of the _Ligeia_ had joined the battle. The dogfight was thick now, almost as thick with ships and cannon fire as on Exegol: dozens of X-wings and TIEs coiling everywhere, and what looked to be an entire squadron solely attacking the Star Destroyer. 

Poe came around for another pass on the port-side cannons, and saw the second Star Destroyer that Chewie had spotted lurking on the far side of the celadon-green planet, far out of the range of the battle. "What's it doing all the way over there? Why wait to send reinforcements?"

< _Perhaps they want to divide the Republic forces?_ > BB-8 suggested.

"But their cannons aren't any use back there, they've got the planet in the way," Poe frowned, quickly snapping the ship around to swat a TIE off the tail of another X-wing.

" _You look good up here, Poe._ "

"I always look good," Poe returned, and Pava laughed.

" _Cut the chatter, Blue Two_ ," snapped one of the lead X-wing pilots. " _Control, I'm reading numerous small ships on the far side of the planet, does anyone have a better visual?"_

" _Gold Squadron, investigate._ "

" _Copy._ "

"Stay out of range of those ventral cannons," Poe warned, "Their reach is further than you think."

" _Control, I've got a visual reading on about thirty transports. Repeat: this is Gold Four, there are approximately thirty First Order transports launching from the planet heading straight for the Star Destroyer_."

"Transports?" Poe repeated.

At that moment, five X-wings made a final run at the first Star Destroyer, weaving through the swarm of TIEs to concentrate firepower on the bridge. Soon, it was in flames, a bright, blinding explosion of light, and the remaining TIEs were fleeing across the curve of the planet’s grav field to the safety of the second Star Destroyer's cover fire.

And then, cutting through the cheering as the first Star Destroyer lilted and leaned, came Control. “ _Attention all ships: concentrate remaining firepower on the transports._ ”

" _No!_ ” Finn shouted suddenly, through a poor, staticky connection. “ _No, Poe, you can’t! Don’t!_ ”

Muran was cutting in now, sharp and infuriated. " _Get off the comm, Finn, this isn't-"_

" _Repeat, all ships, concentrate remaining firepower on the transports."_

" _No! Poe, it's the-"_

“ _Cut the chatter, people_ ,” again reprimanded one of Vancil’s other pilots.

“Wait, I can’t hear Finn.”

" _IT’S THE KIDS!_ " Finn bellowed. " _The kids, Poe, they're on the transports! All that stuff on the base was just to distract us while they finished their evacuation. Poe, the_ **_kids are on those transports_ ** _!_ "

" _Are they armed?"_ It was Thierssen.

"I don't think so," said Poe, diving closer as the swarm of TIEs grew cloudier. Clearly, the TIE fighters were trying to protect the transports from the barrage of X-wings now spinning toward them.

" _-n’t shoot, Poe, you can't shoot, please!_ " Finn was still shouting into the comm. " _They're just kids, they don't have a choice, they don't know-_ "

" _You said there were thousands of other personnel on that base,_ " Muran, again. " _Those are Stormtroopers and officers._ "

" _And if it was only them, I’d be the first one firing, but it’s not, I can feel them, they're-_ "

" _Falcon, return to the Ligeia immediately. We cannot secure the safety of a civilian ship in the combat zone. Repeat_ ," said Control, that same peevish voice. " _Clear the field and return to the-_ "

" _I will not leave_ ," Rey interrupted, adamant. " _You can't fire on unarmed transports, it's a war crime._ "

" _Falcon, you are carrying a valuable prisoner of the Republic. We will not allow her to be drawn back into enemy hands. Return to the Ligeia or we will disable your ship._ "

The first transport exploded, just then. An X-wing careened through the burning wreckage and fired on the next transport; three rakes of green laser blasts and then it went up in flames, too. And then Poe's breath was in his throat, caught somewhere behind his tonsils, back in the soft palate, caught under his tongue, hiding somewhere in his nasal cavity. The transports were unarmed. The Star Destroyer was too far to reach safely. The planet was too far to turn back. Another transport exploded. He had seen this before.

"Oh no," Poe heard himself gasp, barely above a whisper, breath still hiding from him, wheezing a little, this was going to be a problem. This was going to be a problem very soon. His breath was coming shallow now, if at all. 

< _Master-Poe, I am unable to administer your medication in my current position. Sending distress signal to-_ >

"No," Poe managed to cough out, forcing a deep, rattling inhale of air into his lungs that nearly threatened to dislodge the contents of his stomach. "I can do this. I can do it "

" _No, no, Poe, you can't! They're_ **_kids_ ** _!"_

“ _Dameron, a TIE just nearly clipped your wing! Are you all right?_ " Thierssen.

"I can do this." Poe was trying (unsuccessfully) to take slow, deep breaths: rattling inhale, gurgling exhale. _Stay calm. Stay calm, don’t panic, stay calm_ ( _I am calm. I'm talking to myself_ ). His hands were shaking. He tried to drift the ship out of the way of a spiraling TIE, just barely able to grasp the stick enough to tilt forward into a slow, lazy dive, and then he looked down and saw that his hands were still coated with Muran’s blood. Another transport exploded, and he nearly passed out.

" _Dameron?_ " Thierssen, again.

" _Poe, what's wrong?_ " Jess.

“I can do this.” _I can’t do this._

“ _Can he hear me?”_ Finn. “ _Poe?"_

" _Repeat: Falcon, this is your final warning._ "

" _Thierssen, you've got three on your-_ "

" _I see them._ " Thierssen banked hard to spiral around two TIE/INs in close formation at his stern. Poe tried to concentrate. _Breathe. Breathe, goddamn it._ As he watched Thierssen dodge and roll, Poe had to admit that the Commander was, indeed, an excellent pilot - calm, controlled, but sharp and quick, outflanking even the precision of the TIE fighters. Watching him was soothing, mesmerizing, even. He took a full breath. 

Thierssen made a clever feint and turn to nimbly pick off one of the TIEs, but soon after, “ _I can’t shake this one_.” 

Poe saw it. He’d seen this before, too. 

“ _Damn it, I’m pinned down, I can’t-- Shit, that was close_.” Jess.

“ _Thierssen! Watch out!_ ” Karé.

“I’m coming,” said Poe, suddenly feeling the fog lift, seeing the path through the mess of stars and ships, six moves ahead, throwing the stick into engagement. BB-8 wailed encouragement and channeled speed to the thrusters. “I'm gonna get there, Jack.”

“ _He’s getting too close, I may have to-- oh, kriff_ ,” said Thierssen, twisting the ship into an elaborate, seemingly-randomized spinning maneuver that Poe had never seen before (in any other situation, he would be slack-jawed and cheering), but it still failed to dislodge the TIE on his tail.

“I’m almost there,” said Poe, coming in at a sharp angle, holding his breath. “Come on, come on, show me what you got,” he whispered to the ship, and whipped around, sliding through space like they were swimming in still, glassy water, just as-

“ _I’m hit._ ” And then, after a brief pause, “ _But it’s not bad, if I can just-_ ”

“Hold on.” And Poe fired, threw an arsenal of cannon fire that cleared the itch out of his knuckles like a good sneeze, and he sailed through the orange, burning wreckage of the TIE/IN with only a minor hitch in his breath, still shallow, but functioning. “Jack, what’s your damage?”

“ _My astromech is working on it,_ ” said Thierssen.

“ _You should get back to the Ligeia_ ,” said Karé. “ _Escort the Falcon._ ”

Another transport exploded.

“There’s got to be another way,” said Poe, almost to himself more than anyone else, still battling with the double-vision of two very different sets of transports, both sets dwindling fast as green cannon fire lit them up. He dodged another TIE. He couldn’t allow the Star Destroyer to escape. He couldn’t allow the transports to reach the Star Destroyer; the children would just be taken to another base. “Control, what if we disrupted the path between the Destroyer and the transports? We take out the Star Destroyer, and let the transports return to the planet. Then-”

“ _You have been given your orders, Lieutenant_ ,” Control responded.

“No, listen,” said Poe. “Listen: we let the transports return to the planet. We negotiate with the officers or whoever’s got them. Finn and me, we’ll stay, we’ll help negotiate-”

“ _Yeah, let me talk to them!_ ” Finn chimed in. “ _They just don’t know-_ ”

Another transport exploded. “ _-unable to follow the chain of command, you will be removed from the combat field._ ” 

“No, listen to me!” Poe snapped. Begged. “We can do this! We can get this done! I can do it, I’ll take out the cannons so they can’t pick us off while we-” The cannons on the underbelly of the second Star Destroyer went up in flames, almost as if he’d been granted a wish; Vancil’s pilots immediately continued their attacks on the bridge, the hangar bays, the exhaust ports. The swarm of TIEs was thinning around his ship now, attempting to protect the remaining transports, “-but we have to let the transports return to the planet. If there’s nowhere to run, the Troopers might stand down, Finn can talk to them-”

And then the Star Destroyer was imploding, its nose washed in fire and flame and tilting toward the planet with the transports suspended in between. Two of the remaining transports collided with its starboard siding before they could veer away, and then another was shot down by a pair of X-wings, and-

“ _Control, this is Black Leader. Objective complete. Repeat: both Star Destroyers and all transports eliminated. Objective complete._ ”

The comm lit up with cheering.

“ _Copy, Black Leader, good hunting_ ,” said Control with a smile in his voice. “ _Fire at will on the remaining TIEs, and come home._ ”

Poe was quiet. Finn was quiet. Poe realized that he had spiraled back to the _Falcon_ , taking a point position near the cockpit. Jess and Karé were squared up beside him. Waiting, suspended above that pale green planet, the ravine cutting through it like a scar. Within a few minutes, the last of the TIEs were down. Wreckage of the black wheel, large pieces still spinning in orbit, littered the field. Poe recalled, vaguely, that he had intended to be a part of that destruction less than an hour ago.

This was a victory. Two Star Destroyers, countless TIEs, and the base that tortured Finn, all up in flames. He had no idea how many Republic pilots were lost, but his people were safe. He felt sick again. 

“ _Falcon_ , I'll escort you back to the _Ligeia_ ," said Poe, flipping a toggle and slowly bringing the ship around. "Pava, Karé, I need you to do me a favor…”

" _We're with you, Poe,_ " said Pava, as she glided alongside.

Poe hesitated, trying to figure out what to say without announcing his intentions over the comm, hoping they understood. "You know I’m going to-"

" _We know_ ," said Karé. " _We're with you._ "

"Okay," said Poe, "We'll be coming in hot so be ready to move."

" _Copy._ "

"Thierssen?" Poe blinked at the last voice to chime in. "Wait, Jack. Um...I don't know if you understand what we're-"

 _"I know_ ,” Thierssen said curtly. “ _You’re my squadron. We stay together._ ”

“Okay.” Poe took a shallow, scraping breath ( _five things you can see: stars, controls, my hands, the Legeia_ ), and tried to let it out slowly ( _four things you can hear-_ ) as the five ships made their way back to the _Legeia_ , leaving a graveyard behind them. 

***

Poe threw his helmet down and nearly jumped out of the cockpit, sliding down the ladder and running as fast as he could toward the _Falcon_ on the far side of the hangar. “Come on!” he shouted to Karé as he passed her X-wing, the hatch to her cockpit still lifting. “Pava, let’s go!”

The hangar was jubilant; techs and mechanics, pilots who’d already returned from the battlefield, officers and medics and guards, all cheering and singing and praising. Poe hoped he’d be able to keep himself from vomiting on that glossy black floor, scuffed from boots and starfighter oil.

< _Master-Poe, you still need to take your-_ >

“No time for that,” said Poe, gasping a little as he jogged along, lungs still refusing to fill properly. Thierssen stepped off the last rung of his ladder, and Pava pulled at the sleeve of his flight suit to tug him into formation.

"Is that _blood?"_ Pava suddenly shrieked, staring wide-eyed at his hands.

"Don't worry, it's not mine."

"That's not reassuring, Poe,” Kare huffed.

Pushing through the triumphant crowd was getting increasingly difficult. Poe could see the gangplank from Rey’s ship descending and, amidst the hydraulic steam, Finn and Muran arguing at the top. They each looked prepared to throw the other down the ramp.

Muran’s face was still blackened and red from the smoke and flames of his X-wing explosion, and his hand was still slung protectively across his stomach. He wasn’t backing down, however, glaring at Finn. “She’s a prisoner. We’re not just going to-"

“She’s not going anywhere.” The return glint in Finn’s eyes was pure steel.

“She’s not going to be harmed, but you can’t just-”

“Over my dead body.”

Muran’s expression darkened. “You really don’t want it to come to that, Baby-Face.”

"Back off, then," said Finn, pushing Muran's shoulder hard enough to force him two steps down the ramp.

"Look-" Muran tried again, squaring his stance and stepping forward, but thankfully, Chewie appeared just beside Finn and roared so loudly that Muran’s eyes fluttered closed at the volume. “Fuzzy, you really don't-”

“Commander Muran, I think it’s time you left my ship,” said Rey, stepping protectively behind Finn.

“I don’t want any trouble,” said Muran, shoulders and tone slinking into defense once he was clearly outnumbered. “I know we can work something out. You’re angry, I get it, but we need to-”

“Commander Muran!” called the Admiral, clearly having just made his way down from the bridge. “There you are! I was getting concerned.” And he gestured to a trio of heavily-armed guards to approach the base of the _Falcon_ ’s gangplank. “It wasn’t exactly how I hoped this mission would go, but we made the best of a bad situation, I’d say.”

“We still have a situation,” said Muran, limping down the gangplank. 

“I see,” the Admiral took in the stony faces of Finn, Chewie, and Rey at the top of the gangplank, clearly blocking any entrance. “We’ll take Lorus back into protective custody now, Madam Skywalker.”

“No, I don’t believe you will,” said Rey.

“She’s coming with us,” said Poe, sidling around Muran and the Admiral with a wide berth to stand at the base of the gangplank.

“Lieutenant Dameron?” Vancil blinked, his eye ridges fluttering in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

“We’re leaving,” said Poe. “Now. Right now. Come on, come on,” he gestured frantically at his pilots, who were lining up alongside him, blocking the base of the gangplank, rather than board the _Falcon._

“Lieutenant, you have been transferred to the _Ligeia_ ,” said the Admiral, looking quizzically at Muran as he ambled away from Poe’s defensive line nearer to the back of the hangar, halfway between the Admiral and the ship. “Where exactly do you think you’re going?”

"Ganthel." And then Poe laughed, almost to himself. "Home, I'm going home."

"Leave request denied." The Admiral sighed. “Perhaps this mission was too, erm, stressful for you, after your time out of the field. I am sorry. But I would have thought you'd be pleased! We've dealt a significant blow against the First Order today, with more to follow."

"I don't want any part of this," said Poe.

"Hm," the Admiral frowned. "Perhaps you are unwell. Lieutenant, Lieutenant-Commander, please escort Lieutenant Dameron to his quarters," the Admiral nodded to the nearest armed officers, who immediately drew their blasters even as they shot a brief, questioning look at each other. Poe wasn’t sure if it was the order itself, or the proximity to an angry Wookie and an even angrier-looking Jedi, but either way, they were hesitating.

"Nope," said Poe, crossing his arms. "Look, I've shot enough people for one day. I'm not joining your cult. And I’m not faking my death, my poor father has been through enough.”

“I suppose we can put you in the brig,” said the Admiral, sounding reluctant.

“You can try,” Poe shrugged, nodding his head at Rey ( _and Finn, good man, Finn_ ), now standing closely behind him.

"Hm. And what exactly do you do next, on Ganthel?" asked the Admiral. "File paperwork for the rest of your life while dreaming of your better days? You'll never be certified to active duty on Ganthel. There's a permanent no-fly restriction in your file."

"Since when?" Poe narrowed his eyes. "Yesterday?"

"Commander Thierssen's assessment was very specific." The Admiral's eyes flicked to Thierssen, who suddenly went very red.

"Oh, gonna throw Thierssen under the speeder now?" Poe was surprised at how completely unbothered he was by this revaluation. If it was true, he wasn't at all surprised. Didn't really even blame him, much, given what had just happened. "Like I'd trust anything you said, at this point."

The Admiral suddenly laughed. "What _is_ this anti-authority complex of yours? Is this what Holdo experienced right before she-"

"You killed the kids!" Poe shouted, and suddenly his pilots seemed to tense, and the celebrations of the personnel near enough to hear him ceased. "How dare you put yourself on the same level as Holdo, she was a hero. She--" and he shook his head rapidly to clear it. _Focus. Focus on the real issue._ "There was another option. We gave you another option. You killed the _kids_!"

"Says the man who blew up Starkiller,” said the Admiral, entirely unconcerned. “How many casualties on that planet?"

"That was a weapon that had just annihilated billions, these are children!"

"They were soldiers."

"8 year olds!? Are you insane?"

"The First Order cannot survive, cannot rebuild, if we halt the production of their Stormtroopers. I intend to do just that. I will find every single training base, and I will neutralize the threat. First Order indoctrination is relentless and permanent-"

"Um, have you not met Finn?" Poe threw a wild hand behind him.

"One man, out of millions," countered the Admiral.

"Finn’s not the only First Order defector. We found a whole crew, there must have been others-- You didn't even give them a chance! What about Gido Foss?"

The Admiral’s face was steadily turning purple. "I would rather give that chance to the billions of sentients in the galaxy who haven't been conditioned to murder children and destroy-"

"You just murdered thousands of children!" Poe shouted at the top of his lungs. An uneasy tension seemed to ripple through the hangar bay along with the echo of his words, cheering subsiding, the surrounding black-ops personnel shifting their feet and sending uneasy glances at the Admiral. "Discharge me or whatever," said Poe. "But I'm out."

"Halt, or I will order to shoot."

"Then shoot me," said Poe, and he turned toward the _Falcon_.

At that point, several things happened at once: the officers fired their blasters; Chewie roared and returned fire with his crossbow; Rey raised her hand, freezing the two officers where they stood; and Jess dove at Poe, pulling him down to the shining black floor by the elbow. Poe collapsed at Finn’s feet. For a moment, the hangar seemed suspended in anticipation, silent and tense and uncertain and awestruck, and then he looked up.

Finn was standing over Poe, breathing heavily, with his hand outstretched towards two beams of blue light, frozen in place. “How do I-- I don't know how to-” he stammered, sweat beading on his forehead with the exertion to keep the stun shots in the air.

“Push it back,” said Rey. “Just let the Force flow through you, and push it back.”

“Now wait, wait just a moment, I’m sure we can come to an understanding,” said the Admiral hastily, his hands raised in surrender.

Finn swallowed carefully, let out a deep breath, and gently, barely perceptively, lowered his arm. And then, a light _push_ , like a sudden gust of warm summer wind, blew overhead and dozens of blasters clattered to the floor, thumps of boots, the quiet "Oof" sound of air pressing out of bodies, and when Poe lifted his head again, he saw the entire hangar full of soldiers, techs, personnel, all slumped in piles on the ground. The stun shots sailed back across the hangar, striking the upper bulkhead with a few sparks.

“What the hell was that?" Muran gasped. And he quickly hobbled to the Admiral and crouched down next to him, testing the pulse in his neck. "What the hell did you do?"

Finn still had his arm outstretched. In that pose, with that fierce, concentrating focus, he looked older. He looked _ancient_ , like a being outside of time. For a moment, Poe almost thought he saw him glowing. And then that fierceness melted into fear, something close to hysteria, when the shadow in Finn’s eyes passed and he realized what he’d done. “How do I--? Help me, Rey, I don’t know if-- Oh, Force, what did I do?”

“They’re sleeping,” said Rey, putting a calm hand on his shoulder. She sounded extremely proud. “It’s all right, Finn. They’re only sleeping.”

Finn took a few deep breaths, clearly trying to calm himself. And then he looked down at Poe, collapsed onto his feet. “You okay?”

"Yeah," said Poe as he climbed unsteadily to his feet, resisting the urge to flee and the equal urge to kiss him. "You?"

"Yeah."

“Okay.” Poe stared at him for another moment, and then reached a hand down to Pava to pull her upright too. “Let’s get out of here.” He steered Pava by the hand around to the base of the gangplank, only letting go when her feet agreed to carry her up into the ship, and gestured for Karé to follow (with Chewie and Rey, who were quickly boarding to restart the engines). "Jack? You coming?"

Thierssen seemed frozen in place, looking pale and aghast at the bodies on the ground, particularly the Admiral, his shoulders hunched and tense. "I--" he started. "I don't-- I don’t know."

"I'll put in for a transfer, if it helps," Poe shrugged. 

Thierssen looked up at him, still not quite able to speak. Poe couldn’t quite read his expression either, just that steady, reserved blankness full of freckles.

"Come on, Jack," said Poe, giving him a half-smile. "No one'll believe us without you backing us up."

Thierssen opened his mouth again, then closed it. Then he walked briskly onto the _Falcon_.

"Your turn," said Finn, very near his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

"I’m right behind you," said Poe, sliding his hands into his pockets. Finn hesitated, then pressed his lips into a thin line and walked up the boarding ramp, though he looked back twice.

All the racing thoughts Poe had been suppressing in order to stay clear-headed were starting to crowd in again, and his anxiety was spiking along with it. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted to say. _Glad you’re not dead, but I never want to see your stupid face again? You’re a goddamn liar, but I’m the idiot who still cares about you, so maybe don't stay here with this maniac?_ "...Muran?"

Muran was still crouched next to the Admiral, looking down, refusing to look up, as Poe took a single step away from the _Falcon_. "You go on, Spicy."

“Right, okay,” Poe nodded, chewing on his lower lip. But he didn’t leave. “Why’d you do all this? I don’t get it.”

“Does it really matter?” Muran finally straightened up from the floor. 

“Well, yeah, of course it does,” said Poe. “You said you’ve changed, but all I’ve seen is more-- more games, were you just bored out here? Did I really mean that little to-- And why’d he kill you, anyway? It didn’t even start the war, so that shouldn’t have-- Why didn’t you just tell me you-- Is this even where you want to be? Doing this? And why did you think I’d have any interest in-- Did you really think I was so desperate that I--” His mind was racing too fast to complete a thought. Too many unanswered questions. Too many things that didn’t make sense, didn’t add up. And then, at the back of his mind, pulsing somewhere solid and freeing, _Does it really matter? Does anything he says, or does, really matter to you anymore?_

Muran smiled, almost fondly, and shook his head. “I meant what I said, Spicy. I am sorry. But I do belong here, even if it's--" and he stopped himself. "It was good to see you." 

For a moment, Poe thought he was going to offer his hand to shake; but when Muran looked down, his hands were still coated in dried blood. Poe’s were the same.

“You too, I guess." Poe nodded, and it was at least half true. "Well...bye.”

“See you around.”

"Is that a threat?"

Muran chuckled again, and gave a single, pointed wave. Then he put his hands in his pockets, and as Poe looked back, one last glance, he seemed like he was about to say something else, something serious, but he stopped and just grinned again. "I do admit, that Baby-Face of yours is pretty cute."

Poe smiled. "His name's Finn, and if you come near him again, I'll shoot you." And he ran onto the shuttle as the gangplank started to rise. Muran's laughter followed him on board.


	12. Chapter 12

The ship began to take off immediately, barely waiting for the gangplank to fully retract before it shot out of the hangar. Poe made a beeline for the ‘fresher, shutting himself inside, staring blankly into the scratched, dented wall over the tiny sink where a mirror had probably once hung, decades ago. He barely registered the ship jumping to light speed, engines humming under his feet. 

He washed the blood off his hands for a long time.

Karé, Jess, and Thierssen were standing in a nervous huddle when he finally rejoined them in the hold. “Where’s Finn?”

“Up in the cockpit, with Rey and Chewie,” Jess nodded her head in that general direction. And then, after watching him for a moment with her eyebrows slowly furrowing, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Poe, barely realizing that he was pacing in circles. His veins felt like they were throbbing with adrenaline, almost painfully ( _Should I go up there? Should I talk to him? Why would he want to talk to me right now? He’s got much more important things to think about, he wants to be with Rey, he's a Jedi she's a Jedi, she’s who he needs right now, I’m useless, can’t even handle a little dogfight without freaking out, useless, so kriffing useless_ ), that his heart was still thumping wildly in his chest, more wildly now that he wasn’t putting that extra energy toward flying a starship or sorting out whether Muran was playing a trick, or a game, or was it a moment of real sincerity, and now he was just standing on a freighter, pacing, the circles getting smaller and faster, ( _You shouted down an Admiral (again); you disobeyed orders (again); he was going to die (again); you watched 5,000 children die and didn’t do anything to stop it (useless); what else did those bastards do to Finn?_ ) and scratching his knuckles raw. 

“Poe, seriously,” Karé hovered. “What’s going on?”

< _Master-Poe! Your medicine!_ > BB-8 screeched as he rolled down the hallway from the cockpit and shoved his storage compartment out, full of little white pills.

“I don’t need one, BeeBee,” said Poe. “I’m fine.”

< _Heart rate: Significantly increased. Oxygen intake: Significantly decreased. Body chemistry: Leaking saline solution on forehead and under arms. Tremors detected. Recommended course of treatment_ ,> and BB-8 rattled the storage compartment so hard the pills nearly bounced out.

“I’m not _leaking_ , this flight suit is hot,” he tugged at the neck. “I need to stay alert right now, we might have to-”

< _Don’t make me zap you._ > When this didn’t convince him, either, BB-8 started whistling with an increasingly higher pitch, until Jess clapped her hands over her ears, and Poe gave up.

“Fine! Fine, fine. I’m taking it. I’m taking it, okay? Kriff,” as he picked up a pill and dry swallowed it. His hands were still shaking, but he displayed his empty palms to the droid. “Don’t look at me like that,” he snapped at Pava. 

Jess was staring, wide black eyes full of concern, and she crossed the space between them in three neat steps to wrap her arms around him.

“I’m fine, Pava,” said Poe, though he finally heard his voice this time, and he was rasping and hoarse from so much shouting and the lack of air. Poe let himself rest his chin on her shoulder, trying, again, to take a full breath. He tried to disengage from the hug, but Pava clung to him tightly. Soon, he felt a new set of arms wrap around his shoulders: Karé, her short hair tickling his ear. “Guys, I’m okay.” He let out a little sardonic laugh. “Starting to think I’m cursed or something.”

“Well, if you’re cursed, then I guess I’ve been cursed to follow you into the cursed land for all eternity,” said Karé.

“Yeah, boss, I thought we were supposed to have some _fun_ before we went to hell,” Pava snorted from somewhere around Poe’s other ear.

Poe chuckled. “Oh, kriff.” He glanced up. “How screwed are we, Jack?”

Thierssen was standing a few paces away, awkwardly trying not to look too closely at the group hug, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “I really don’t know.”

Karé leaned out of the hug and then she punched Poe, lightly, on the upper arm. “Well, we stole a Republic prisoner…”

“Disobeyed multiple direct orders in the field,” said Poe. “Abandoned our posts.”

“Sucker-punched an Admiral with the FORCE!” Pava added, slinging an arm around Poe’s shoulder.

Poe met her eyes, glanced at Karé, and then all three of them erupted into a loud, slightly-hysterical, certainly exhausted, unhinged sort of uncomfortable giggling. Soon, Poe was laughing so hard he had to lean into Pava to keep himself from doubling over. “I was supposed to take my cert--certification t-test on Ganthel, what, two hours ago?”

Pava was howling now, and Karé was wiping tears out of her eyes. “Should we take bets? Who’s got the odds on court martial versus dishonorable discharge?”

“C’ai’s gonna be so mad we didn’t let him come with us,” said Pava.

“C’ai loves a good mutiny." 

They laughed for a good, long time. Finally, once they were starting to settle down, just as Thierssen started to seem comfortable enough to smile, Jess and Karé pulled Poe down onto the circular bench at the _dejarik_ table, where he collapsed slightly against Karé’s shoulder. He took another deep, clear breath, and could almost feel the blood in his veins slowing down as the adrenaline drained out of his system. Now, the fight was to keep himself from falling asleep on the bench. _Stupid pill._

“Seriously though,” said Karé. “Are we completely fucked?”

Thierssen hesitated, then sat down in the chair across from them. “I really don’t know. For the transports, the Galactic Rules of Engagement clearly recognize underage combatants as victims, not soldiers, especially in a situation like this where we know they don’t have a choice to be where they are.”

“No. No, they do not,” Poe said wearily. Now that he was finally calming down, he was feeling slightly teary-eyed in an entirely different way. “I saw-- shit. You don’t want to know what I saw on that base.”

Karé looked down at him. “Do you want to tell us?”

“...Should I get Finn?” Jess asked again.

“No! No, he's got enough to worry about right now.” _Don’t burden him with this. With me. Force, I don’t know what to do next. Do I go talk to him? Do I leave him alone with Rey, wait for him to come to me? Do I fade out, do I force myself in? Is it already over? What the fuck do I do right now? What the fuck do I do next?_ “Just...whatever you thought about Finn before, you know, how brave he was for-- for defecting and overcoming what they-- you have no idea. You have no fucking clue. Double it. Triple it.” He closed his eyes. “I honestly don’t want to think about what they did to him. It was...Force, Pava, I wouldn’t have-- Those kids might be better off dead.” _But then you wouldn't have Finn. (Do I have him?)_

There was an awkward silence. Poe took another deep, long, steadying breath, tipped his head back to rest on the wall behind him, and muttered, faintly, “Thanks, BeeBee.”

< _Heart rate: within normal parameters_ ,> BB-8 reported, clearly pleased.

“What about the Admiral?” asked Karé.

“Well, technically, that wasn’t any of us,” said Thierssen. “That was, erm, Finn. And even though Lieutenant Dameron told Admiral Vancil that the First Order prisoner would not be handed back into Republic custody, she was in the control of Rey Skywalker, on a civilian ship…”

Poe frowned. “What, we say ‘The Jedi made me do it’?”

“I’m not suggesting we do that. I’m stating the facts as they happened.” Thierssen paused for thought. “Really, there’s a question of how much they can even divulge about what happened. If the _Ligeia_ is truly a covert operation, with classified missions and directives, perhaps they can’t openly challenge the truth about what we experienced. It would expose everything they’re doing, whether it’s rogue activity or is in fact sanctioned by the Chancellor and the Fleet Admiral.”

“But they can just put a permanent grounding Poe’s file, forever, as payback?” Pava narrowed her eyes at Thierssen. “Did you really do that?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“It’s okay, Jack,” said Poe. “I don’t blame you.” He really didn’t.

“That wasn’t my assessment,” Thierssen insisted, as though he had been waiting for the moment to defend himself. ”I did agree with the recommendation to extend your grounding after...well, after…”

“I figured,” said Poe.

“But not a permanent restriction. I was intending to proctor your certification test today.”

Poe snorted. “Yeah, I doubt that’s going to happen now.” After another silence, watching Thierssen stare at his hands in his lap, “Why did you come with us?”

“I’m your C.O.,” said Theirssen, as though it were self-explanatory.

“Yeah, but-”

“If an ex-lover of one of your pilots came back from the dead and asked them to run a secret mission out of the blue, would you just leave them to it?”

“No,” Poe shook his head, chuckling a little. “No, I wouldn’t.”

“Well then.”

“But that’s not what I meant. Why did you come with us this time?” Poe shifted forward, gesturing between Jess on one side and Karé on his other. “There’s still a good chance we’ll be booted out on our ass the minute we touch ground. I get that you feel...obligated, or whatever, but I can't imagine you've ever disobeyed orders like this before."

“...No, I haven’t,” Thierssen said, almost guiltily.

"Poe knows all about disobeying orders," said Karé.

"Yeah, this is, what, the third time? Fourth time?" Pava teased. “This week?”

"I'm a bad influence,” said Poe.

“That ship could have stopped Corellia.” Thierssen said it so quietly, Poe barely registered at first.

“Corellia?” he blinked.

“Yesterday, you were grilling the Admiral about the _Ligeia_ , and what he’d been doing to stop the First Order, and you pointed out that the starfighter power on that ship could have defended that planet and maybe prevented the occupation,” said Thierssen.

“Maybe,” said Poe. “Maybe not. I don’t know, I wasn’t there. You oughta know by now how much I run my mouth off around-”

“I was there.”

“You were?”

“After the Cataclysm. We tried to protect it, but there just wasn’t enough of us,” said Thierssen. He looked away, down at the floor. “The First Order killed six of my pilots. I was ordered to retreat and save the rest of the squadron.”

“And Corellia fell because you followed orders,” said Poe, hoping he managed to keep the bitterness out of his voice; or at least, that Thierssen understood that any bitterness wasn’t directed at him but at whomever gave that order.

Thierssen nodded. “It probably would have fallen anyway,” he said. “There were only four of us left. And then, there was just me.”

Poe frowned. “What happened to the others?”

“Defected to the Resistance.”

“Oh right.” Poe closed his eyes, remembering their fight the month before and feeling, again, so very stupid. He recited those names in his mind, held them close, a mental salute. “They were great pilots. I remember them, Mara and Yunn’vida. They were great pilots.”

“Mara ran a bunch of supply missions with me,” said Jess. “She made us listen to Bith opera the entire time, it was really annoying and she loved it and that was super cute.”

Thierssen’s mouth peaked, just the smallest bit, at the sides.

“Yunn was in my squadron,” said Karé. “She hated, absolutely _hated_ the name. She insisted on reading out of a damn thesaurus one night, and we took a shot for every one that was worse. I think ‘bodkin’ was the one that broke us.”

Jess snorted laughter again. “I liked Scalpel Squadron, ‘cause you kept trying to say it fast, like you were practicing over the comms, but you were so drunk that-”

“Scalpel Squadron, Squalpel Scardron,” Karé recited, chuckling again, and Jess laughed with her.

“So Corellia pissed you off, huh?” said Poe, trying to draw himself away from tender memories, scratching his knuckles again. “Why didn’t you come join us, too?”

Thierssen gave him a hard look. “What did the Resistance do to help Corellia?”

“Hey,” Poe sparked, blood rushing again. “We had two dozen people crammed onto _this_ freighter, no ships, no guns, no-”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“-and we did what we could when we broke into the prison, but we couldn’t be everywhere at once, it was-”

“Poe, he said he was sorry,” Karé cut in, snapping her fingers in front of his face.

“What?” Poe blinked. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry,” Thierssen repeated. He was looking down at the table, sadly; for once, that blank face showing more than his usual, professional mask - actual, visible sadness in his pale brown eyes.

“Oh, damn it. That’s your home,” said Poe, not as a question.

Thierssen nodded. “I’m from a little fishing village just north of Coronet City.”

“I’m an idiot,” said Poe. “Sorry, Jack.”

Thierssen nodded again. “I’ve been angry about all of it for a while now. I followed orders on Corellia, and they lived. But then they left. I stayed, I followed orders, and they left, and they died. And I stayed, and Corellia fell, and more people suffered during the occupation." 

“I would have gone nova if they had taken Yavin,” said Poe. “Pulled the galaxy in on itself like a dying star, one giant black hole of blood and arrogance and self-flagellation.”

Thierssen made a little half smile. “Weren’t you doing that already?”

Poe could feel Karé tense next to him, but he laughed. “I’m sorry about before, too. I shouldn’t have hit you.”

“Neither should I.” And, after a pause, he added, “And I shouldn’t have said what I said.”

“Eh,” Poe shrugged. “S’not the first time I’ve been called an arrogant bastard.”

“Wasn’t that your call sign in flight school?” said Karé, and Poe laughed again.

“You guys good now, then?” Pava looked pointedly back and forth between them. “I'd say 'now kiss', but Poe's taken-"

"Uh, and I'm not-- um, not that there’s-- but I’m straight. Very straight. I mean, I--”

"So shake hands already,” Karé interrupted. “We’re all sick of this bullshit feud."

“It wasn’t a feud.” Poe smiled a little, and leaned across the table to extend his hand. Thierssen twitched the edge of his mouth again, and shook it - really more like clasping it, only the lightest movement. Then Poe realized something, and let out another bitter laugh. “Oh fuck, the Republic’s going to bury me alive. They’re gonna think I’m building another goddamn army, aren’t they? Captain Deonor’s gonna sew my mouth shut, solder me into a durasteel box, and drop me in the sea.” And he sank his face directly onto the table.

“Poe?” Rey asked tentatively.

“Mm?” Poe mumbled into the shiny surface, seriously contemplating falling asleep.

“Is he...Are you all right?”

“M’fine,” said Poe, still face-down on the table. “You good? We’re all good. S’like a vacation.”

Jess jabbed him in the side, and Poe let out an enormous sigh as he dragged himself upright again. He first caught the look in Rey’s eyes (serious, determined, exasperated at him, as always), and then saw Finn standing just beside her, staring at the floor, at the bulkheads, anywhere but Poe. “What’s up?”

“Nama Lorus,” said Rey.

Poe nodded, forcing his fuzzy mind to restart thinking. It was not unlike trying to push a mossy boulder hard enough to get it rolling down a hill. “Right. Right, okay.” And before Jess could move out of the way to let him up, he pulled his knees from under the table and stood up on the seat, planting one boot firmly in the middle of the _dejarik_ table, and then jumping down to the floor.

“I just cleaned that,” said Finn, still lingering behind Rey. Poe couldn’t quite read the expression on his face, but he was grateful for the slight tease in his voice.

“These are new boots!”

Finn crossed his arms over his chest, more self-protective than challenging. “You okay? BeeBee-Ate was screaming earlier…”

“He’s just being melodramatic,” said Poe.

< _I am not! He was being stupid. He didn’t want to take his-_ >

“Come on,” said Finn, pushing ahead of them toward the captain’s quarters, clearly uninterested in witnessing another squabble. “We need to decide our next move.”

  
  


***

  
  


The captain’s quarters were dark, lit only by a small, faint bulb over the door. Poe had spent very little time in this room, even with how many hours and days he’d spent on the _Falcon._ It had been Leia’s quarters, and even after their permanent move to Ajan Kloss, he felt that they were still reserved solely for her use. Now, they clearly belonged to Rey (an open storage cupboard revealing an old, engraved metal box he didn’t recognize; a piece of a broken crystal; a spare roll of gauzy fabric), and he felt even more uncomfortable at the idea of being in her bedroom than the General’s. 

After a few minutes, his eyes adjusted to the dimness, and he could see Nama Lorus on the bed facing the wall, scrunched around herself in a small ball, arms wrapped tightly around her knees. Only her curved back in that no-longer-perfectly-pressed gray cadet’s uniform was clearly visible.

“Hi,” said Poe, turning on the lights.

Nama almost immediately launched upright, nearly hitting her head on the bulkhead above the bed. Her face was red, growing redder by the second, but the anger didn’t come quickly enough to fully hide the tear-tracks on her cheeks or the puffiness of her eyelids. “What do you want now? What’s going on? Where are you taking me?”

“Whoa, we’re here to talk about all that,” said Poe, holding both hands up. 

Nama eyed him carefully, then sniffed with disapproval. “You must be the boyfriend.”

“Huh?” Poe glanced at Finn, who seemed to be blushing slightly.

“The Trooper said his boyfriend was a pilot,” said Nama, looking scornfully at his flight suit.

“Oh,” said Poe. “Yeah, that’s me.” _For now. For how much longer?_

She raised an eyebrow at Finn. “You turned traitor for _that_?” and then, before he could answer, “Bum deal, if you ask me.”

“And we didn’t,” said Poe. 

Finn, however, didn’t seem bothered by her snottiness. “Are you hungry? Thirsty?” he asked instead, taking a few steps toward the bunk and sitting down on the floor.

Nama pressed her lips together and straightened her back. “What are you going to do with me?” She managed to put the same fierceness into her voice as before, but there was a waiver of uncertainty, of fear.

“What do you want us to do?” asked Poe.

Nama’s eyebrows twisted in confusion, or another wash of anger, and Finn said, “What Poe means is, you’re not our prisoner.”

Nama rolled her eyes to the back of her head. “Yeah, right.”

“It’s true,” said Rey. “I apologize for taking you away from the _Ligeia_ without consulting you. We thought it was the safest option, but-”

“-but it’s also a little like kidnapping, which we’re not really cool with,” said Poe.

Nama snorted again. “The Republic _isn’t_ condoning kidnapping now? That’s a new policy.”

“Oh, you want to talk about kidnapping? How many kids did the First Order steal last week?” Poe snapped. He’d been around his share of angry-at-the-world teenagers, lashing out because they couldn't stand their own powerlessness ( _you were one_ , a small voice reminded him), but after the last cycle, he didn’t have much patience left for any hint of defending the First Order. “Last year? In the last two decades?”

The steel in Nama’s eyes remained solid, spine straight. “So you’re going to make me answer for everything they do? I didn’t give those orders.”

His anger deflated as quickly as it had bubbled up, and Poe sighed. He tried again. “Look. I’m not here to defend whatever the Republic did to-- to get hold of you.” 

“Good. Because if I have to answer for _them_ because I’m wearing _this_ , then guess what? So do you,” said Nama. And then, with thinly-concealed hurt, “You never intended to send me home, did you?”

“Home? The First Order’s not a home, it’s a prison,” said Poe before he could think better of it.

Nama ignored him, and pressed further, “You were going to get Gido Foss, and then attack anyway. Or you knew it was just an excuse so you could blow them all up. Right?”

“I have no idea,” said Poe, even as his stomach sank deeper, knowing she was probably right. “That wasn’t what we were told about the mission.”

“ _I_ told you,” said Nama, face growing red again. “I told you it was all stupid. “You knew what they were going to do to me, and-”

“I just said, I didn’t-”

“They said ‘traitors’. Plural,” and her voice hitched slightly. “They didn’t send any shuttles to the base, they just opened fire. They were trying to kill me, too.” 

“It is possible that the attack on the base was planned without your father’s involvement,” said Rey. “Or his objections may have been overruled for strategy reasons. He may be inclined to help get you home if we can reach him through some form of back channel.”

“I’m not sending her back to the First Order,” said Poe. "I refuse to believe that you would, either."

“I wouldn't want to, no,” Rey shook her head. “But-”

“Poe, she has a family there,” Finn interrupted. “Her dad, her brother and sister. She can’t help where she’s from, and you can’t blame her for wanting to go back to her family.”

“I didn’t say I wanted to-” 

“You can’t be serious,” Poe blinked at him. “We can’t send her back to the First Order-- No, don’t look at me like that, I can’t do it. I’m not sending a kid,” and he pointed at Nama, “Back to that hellhole so that in two years, when she’s on the bridge of a Star Destroyer or whatever super weapon they’re building next, I’ll be seeing _her face_ when I blow it up. I’m not doing that.”

“So what, are you going to shoot me now?” Nama scoffed. “Or keep me locked on this junk ship for two years and then do it when I’ve passed the arbitrary mark that says I’m old enough to be evil?” 

“I don’t want to shoot you!” Poe insisted. “I just said-”

“Yeah, not right now, where you have to look at me,” said Nama. “You like it when they’re behind helmets and in ships and far away, so you don’t have to see it happen. Just shoot up a bunch of unarmed transports-”

“I didn’t shoot the transports! That was-”

“The Republic? Oh it was the Republic, right. And whose uniform are you wearing?” said Nama, dripping with sarcasm. “Why would I be any different than all the other people you just killed?” 

“I don’t think this is very helpful,” said Rey.

“No kidding,” said Poe, walking to the corner of the room, scratching his knuckles again. The skin was scratched and sore now, but he couldn’t stop. “Maybe we should have talked this out before we came in here. But we can’t send her back to the Order. I guess we could take her to Ganthel and get the Senate involved. Maybe negotiations with the First Order can work better in the sunlight, rather than whatever black ops bullshit the Admiral is up to out there...”

“Do you really think that’s wise?” said Rey. “The Republic…”

“The fucking Republic…” Poe trailed off, shaking his head. _I swore an oath. Goddamn it, I swore a goddamn oath, and-_

“What about Jannah?” Finn suggested. 

“Huh,” Poe considered, pacing in small circles again. “Maybe. Yeah, maybe. Where’s her crew based right now?”

“They’re not, they all went-”

“Oh right. Well, maybe they-”

“I can try to reach-”

“Or what about Teza Nasz? She might know of someone.”

Nama’s eyes narrowed further. “I’m not joining the Republic. Or the Resistance. Or whatever stupid revolution you’re schilling for these days.”

“They’re not--” Poe started, but then switched tracks in the middle of the sentence, “But they’re all defectors. They left because they knew it was wrong. Does she even have the capacity to understand what's wrong, after everything the First Order’s done to her?”

“I knew it was wrong,” said Finn.

“And look what they made you do, anyway!” said Poe. He took another tight circle. “We both saw what you did, and who the hell knows what they’ve made _her_ do.” To Nama, “So you might have to find your morality now, kid, even if you’re not ready to jump. I know we can’t push you into it, but we can’t trust anyone higher up, and I sure as hell don’t trust my own decisions anymore, and-- What?” Poe finally saw Finn’s face as he circled around, and he didn’t understand. Finn looked crestfallen. “What did I say?” 

“Nothing,” said Finn, shaking his head. “I get it.” He looked over at Nama. “What Poe’s trying to say is-”

“I know what he’s trying to say,” Nama spat in a tight voice. And then, looking down at Finn, considerably and noticeably softer in tone, “What’s your designation, again?”

“His name is-” Poe started, but Finn interrupted him.

“My designation was FN-2187.”

“It’s really not very efficient, is it? So many digits,” said Nama. Then she sighed, and rubbed at her eye. “Why is everyone so stupid?”

“My squadmates called me Eight-Seven,” said Finn, and Poe fought the urge to close his eyes, trying to escape the flash of memory from a Stormtrooper calling out those numbers as Finn strode across the plaza to a group of children playing.

“I suppose that’s a little better.” Then she made another small snort of a laugh, more of a grimace than a smile. “So it’s prison, a different prison, ideological zealots, or...any other options?”

“I’ve got some credits you can have,” Poe shrugged. “Rey might have some spare clothes.”

“Poe, we’re not just going to drop her on some planet,” said Finn.

“I’m kidding.” _Mostly._

Rey tilted her head, and started to muse. “I suppose there’s always Kamp-”

“The Jedi Temple?” Poe interrupted her before she could finish the name of the planet. Just in case. “That could work. Republic wouldn’t be stupid enough to attack it, and the First Order doesn’t know about it yet.”

Nama laughed, sarcastic and dark. “I’m not a Jedi.”

“I understand you don’t know anything about me, but I’m not the sort of person to turn away children who need a safe place to live, regardless of whether they’re capable of using the Force,” said Rey.

“I don’t know anything about any Jedi,” said Nama.

“Freaky mind powers, but there's nowhere safer,” said Poe. “And no one more brave.”

Rey shook her head at him, smiling softly. “Thank you, Poe.”

Poe glanced down at Finn, who was staring at the floor and looking markedly sad, and angry, and refused to meet his eyes. ( _Fuck, what did you do now, you stupid kriffing idiot, now he’s upset..._ ) 

“I think, perhaps, I’d like to speak with Nama for a little while, alone,” said Rey, crossing the room to examine one of her trinkets in the open cupboard. “Finn, Poe, will you please give us a moment?”

“I’d like Eight-Seven to stay,” said Nama.

“All right,” Rey nodded.

Poe resisted the urge to insist that Nama call him ‘Finn,’ especially when Finn looked at the floor again rather than meet his eyes, and made no protests himself. “Okay.” And then, right before the door opened, he paused. “Look, I only meant that-”

“She knows, Poe,” said Finn, without looking at him. “It’s okay.”

Poe sighed and left the room. Once it had slid closed behind him, he stood for a moment in the quiet corridor, trying to calm his racing thoughts. He could faintly hear the holographic growling from the _dejarik_ table in the main hold and then turned left, into the back passages of the ship, to find a dark, private place to sit (collapse, really-- or maybe he would just take a quick look at those hyperdrive upgrades Chewie was talking about...) and think.


	13. Chapter 13

“Anyone want some caf?”

“Oh perfect timing,” said Rey, twisting in her seat to look at Poe lurking in the doorway to the cockpit. He had half-unzipped his flight suit and knotted the arms around his waist, shoulders bare, his thin sleeveless undershirt a little sweat-stained. “I’d love a cup. Finn?”

“No thanks,” said Finn, trying not to look too closely into Poe’s face when he glanced his way. “I’m okay. Um, but I can go make one, if you want to…?” and he gestured at his chair.

“Let me,” Rey said before Poe could answer. “I could use a break to stretch my legs. Poe, will you watch the controls? We’ve got another hour or so.”

“Sure,” said Poe. Finn was no pilot, but he knew this wasn’t necessary. He knew it hadn’t been necessary for Rey to sit with him as long as she had, as the ship made its way through hyperspace plotted by navigation computers and auto-pilots, and he knew it wasn’t necessary for Poe to take her place now. 

Once he and Rey had finished their conversation with Nama (no decisions made, just a calmer discussion of the options), they had both drifted back through the main hold and into the cockpit. Poe was noticeably absent, and Finn hadn’t felt brave enough to ask where he was. Chewie had gone to join the _dejarik_ tournament, and Finn had taken his seat, and then he and Rey sat, in silence. Finn hadn’t spoken once. Not about the base on IOX-34917, not about the dizzying array of Force powers he’d exhibited that day, not about Muran, or the sim room, or the thousands of children they’d watched explode. Not about chosen names, or family names, or names you can’t help, or names you don’t want, or names that choose you. And definitely, certainly, not about Poe.

Finn had appreciated the quiet company. He didn’t want to talk about any of that yet. He felt like there was one outstanding, unanswerable question, whose answer could only come from Poe, who was still suspiciously absent, and until he knew what would happen between them, he didn’t know how to approach any of those other things. Rey had seemed to understand, without him having to say anything. He loved that about her. But his anxiety and loneliness increased as the time stretched and Poe didn’t seek him out; and now, even more so, when Poe crossed behind Rey as they exchanged places in the small cockpit, further away from Finn, making no movement to reach out and touch him in any way. And with that, Finn felt he had been given his answer to that last outstanding question, and his heart sank into his stomach, down at the bottom of a cold, dry, empty ravine.

Poe settled heavily into the captain’s chair and did a few checks of the navigation computations and whatever other blinking lights he could pretend needed his attention. And then they sat, quietly, watching the stars swirl overhead and waiting for someone to break the silence. 

Finally, Finn couldn’t take it any longer. “Can you just get it over with?”

Poe looked up at him, furrowing his eyebrows. “What?”

“I understand,” said Finn, gripping the worn leather of the seat as hard as he possibly could, scraping fibers and grit under his fingernails. “I get it.”

“Well, I don’t,” said Poe. “What are you talking about?”

“I understand why you’re going to...I mean, you don’t have to be…” Finn made a frustrated noise and gestured between them, their distance, the inevitable. “Just tell me, okay? You don’t have to be nice about it. You can just say it. The waiting is making me crazy.”

“Finn, I don’t-”

“You know now. Okay?” It was hard not to sound angry. Frustrated. Disappointed. But mostly angry. So, so angry. “Now you really know what I am. I’m a mind-reading dark Jedi who murders kids and took out an entire hangar full of people without even thinking about it. I’m dangerous, and probably still First Order brainwashed, and...and you’re dating the next Kylo Ren. I understand that it’s over.”

“Whoa, whoa, wait a minute-”

“But I’m not going to be the one to say-- Well, maybe I have to. Do I really have to do it?” Finn looked up at him, anger rising again ( _you coward, just say it already_ ). “Because if it were up to me, I wouldn’t want to-- but I get it. You shouldn’t waste your time on me.”

“Hey, buddy, slow down,” said Poe, shifting in his seat and leaning toward him. “Back up.”

Finn snapped his mouth shut, gripping the seat again, so hard he thought his knuckles might pop.

After a few breaths, Poe said, quietly, “Do you actually want to break up, or is this just what you think I want?”

Finn couldn’t bring himself to look up at him. “I know it’s my fault. I didn’t tell you about it, what I used to be. And I didn’t even know that I could do all that stuff, I couldn’t do anything before, but now I can, and I don’t know why, but it’s...You keep saying I’m...” he couldn’t bring himself to say _perfect._ Or _amazing_. Or any of the other glowing, incorrect adjectives Poe had used before, because they made his chest tighten and his stomach churn. “Now you know I’m not.”

“Nothing has changed about who I think you are. Absolutely nothing.” And then, “Finn, look at me.”

He did, reluctantly, but he shifted back in his seat, leaning away.

Poe was regarding him with a serious, grave expression and intense eyes. “You didn’t hurt anyone today.”

“Pretty sure I shot down some TIEs,” said Finn.

“I mean, you didn’t hurt any innocent people today,” said Poe. “No one in that hangar was hurt. You _saved_ Muran. You saved him, Finn. You didn’t hurt anyone who wasn’t already trying to kill you.”

“I shot those kids,” said Finn morosely.

“That wasn’t real, and it wasn’t you, Finn.”

“Of course it was!” Finn exploded. “Of course it was me!”

“Finn, I saw those conditioning chairs. You showed us a _glimpse_ of what those did to you. Just a tiny bit, and it was-- You think that’s some innate part of your soul? When every single thing you’ve done since the day you left the Order stands in direct opposition to what they made you do?”

 _But I_ **_could_ ** _have killed everyone in that hangar. Maybe next time, they won’t just fall asleep_. “You’re always responsible for what you do,” said Finn.

“How old were you? During that simulation?”

“Sixteen.” At least, he thought so. Ages were always a hazy guess based on training levels; it wasn’t like he’d ever had a birthday. 

Poe let out an angry, incredulous laugh. “Sixteen! You were a kid. You know what I was doing when I was sixteen?”

“Getting drunk and stealing speeders?”

“Yeah! Exactly!”

“And don’t you feel responsible for that?” asked Finn. “Didn’t we just have a whole thing about how you _still_ feel responsible for-”

“No one was threatening me with death and dishonor unless I stole that speeder. I did that on my own.” Poe’s jaw was set very tight. “Let me guess: they put you in one of those fucking chairs right before that simulation.”

Finn hesitated, then said, “It wasn’t _right_ before. Sims were on the last day of the cycle.”

“So there was a schedule? Conditioning on Primeday, blasters on Centaxday, simulations on Benduday? Like that?”

Finn nodded. 

“And then if you do anything wrong in the sim, if you hadn’t killed those kids, then it’s back to conditioning on Primeday?”

Finn shivered involuntarily, scrunching lower in his seat, trying not to think about it, trying not to panic. “Yeah. I mean, maybe. But maybe there was another way to pass the test, and I didn’t see it.” 

“Force, I fucking hate them so fucking much," Poe suddenly looked back out the window, clutching the edge of the control panel tight, his arms tense and flexed. Then he swallowed carefully, and turned back to Finn. "How could you possibly be responsible for that? The whole point was to make you do things you wouldn’t do otherwise. They weren’t training you for diplomacy, Finn. They wanted you to be a weapon. Drug you, hurt you, threaten you if you don’t. It wasn't your fault. It wasn't you."

“My arms,” said Finn, trying to keep his eyes from stinging. He dug his fingernail deeper into the chair. “My hands. My eyes.”

“You walked away from all of it! When you saw a choice, you walked away from _years_ of indoctrination, with no form of morality besides that which you brought up from deep inside your soul.” 

Before Finn could protest again, Poe continued, nearly shouting now, "Look. Just listen. I know, I know for a goddamn fact that, if our positions were reversed, I'd probably still be in armor right now. I’m just the right kind of competitive, arrogant asshole who’d fight to be the best in that weird, cruel system. I kill people all the time, Finn. I like it. I like shooting down TIEs and I miss firing blasters. Okay, maybe I wouldn’t fire on the transports, but the Star Destroyers? The interceptors, the pilots? I’d kill more of them right now, and I’d whistle while I did it. I’m a bad person. And I-”

“You’re not a bad person,” Finn finally cut in. 

Poe took a deep, angry breath, and then let it out slowly. Calmly, “Exactly. That’s exactly my point. You’re ten times the man I am, Finn. If I’m not a bad person, then neither are you.”

Finn didn’t know what to say to that, and didn’t really have the energy to protest anymore, so he let the silence stretch. 

After a little while, still watching the controls, Poe suddenly offered, “Do you want to go to Formos?” 

“What, right now?” Finn blinked.

“Sure,” said Poe. “Well, we should probably get the others back to Ganthel first, but yeah. If you want to go, I’ll take you there.”

“I don’t,” Finn shook his head. “No, I don’t want to.”

“You sure? They could have been lying, about…"

“It wasn’t a lie,” said Finn. He had never, not once, invented memories of his early childhood, his parents or any of his family members; not even snippets of a scene, fragments or shards, no fantasy scenarios of loving parents waiting for him, longing for him, searching for him, somewhere in the galaxy. Sometimes, he thought that lack of imagination said more about who he was, deep down, than anything else did. “It’s why I didn't want to go with Jannah in the first place. First Order stole kids, of course they did, we know they did, but-- but it’s a lot easier just to take kids that nobody wants.”

“There’s no proof that your parents-- and besides, you could have other family,” said Poe. “Siblings, or grandparents, or something. You don’t know for sure that they-”

“They could have been sold, just like me. Or dead by now. Or worse.” Finn sighed, closed his eyes.

Very quietly, almost too quietly to hear, “You could learn your name. Your real name.”

“My name is Finn,” he said fiercely. “Don’t you dare try to take that away from--” and then he stopped himself, and sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” said Poe. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“I know why you did,” said Finn. He kept his eyes locked onto the control panel in front of him. “I guess I can always change my mind someday, but right now, I don’t need a reason to be more disappointed, you know? It’s...it just feels safer not to know. I’ve got family here.”

“You do,” Poe nodded firmly. 

Finn wasn’t sure he’d ever wanted to hug or be hugged as badly as he did at that moment, and the thought made the loneliness rear up again as Poe stayed in his chair and Finn stayed in his. Finn realized that he still wasn’t sure if they had, in fact, just broken up. Poe didn’t exactly accept the idea, but he hadn’t rejected it either. Finn couldn’t bring himself to ask. 

They did begin to take more frequent glances at each other, though, looking but not touching. Soon, Finn started to see the roiling flames of Poe's Force energy swirl around him again: the red anger fading back, misty-gray loneliness drifting around the steady core of yellow and blue. Finn let out a deep breath, and watched Poe’s colors shift, and they sat in stiff, uncertain silence until he heard the unmistakable sound of BB-8 rolling up the hallway to the cockpit. He was beeping quietly to Rey, who was holding two steaming mugs. 

“Caf, Poe?” she reached the mug into the open space between them, for which he thanked her without really looking away from the controls. “And Finn, I thought you might like some tea. It’s katha-mint.”

“Thanks, Rey,” said Finn, accepting the cup and then putting it down on the floor, near the wall, without drinking a sip, as soon as she left. BB-8 rolled close to Finn, tilting his dome as though he were inspecting him and gave a small inquisitive beep, but Finn refused to look at him and BB-8 quickly gave up, rolling over to Poe.

“You know, the question isn’t, ‘Did I really ask him?’” Poe said suddenly, putting his mug down on the floor.

“What?” Finn looked up. There was immediate relief at no longer being the subject of discussion, although he couldn’t help but dread the next phase in this conversation that seemed determined to touch on all the uncomfortable subjects they’d been avoiding with each other.

Poe was still staring straight ahead, at the stars swirling and the vortex opening around them. “You weren’t asking the right question. It’s not about whether we were really engaged.”

“I think I know that now,” said Finn.

“Yeah. The real question is whether I would have gone through with it.”

“Okay,” said Finn, again not entirely agreeing with this assessment but too happy that Poe was still talking to him to dispute it. “Would you have gone through with it? Marrying him?”

“Probably,” said Poe, which is not what Finn expected him to say. But he continued, “And it would have been a huge, catastrophic mistake I would have regretted for the rest of my life.”

“Well, yeah,” said Finn, not able to keep the disapproval out of his voice. “He’s a jerk.”

“He wasn’t all the time,” said Poe.

“Nuh-uh, he was horrible. I hate him.”

BB-8 trilled from his place next to Poe’s feet in a series of his most rude-sounding beeps. < _Designation-Muran is a manipulative, self-absorbed-_ >

“Yeah, I know,” Poe chuckled and reached down to give the droid a hearty scritching on his back. “You and BeeBee-Ate can form a club.”

“You hate him, too, huh BeeBee?” Finn looked down at the little droid, still pressed close against Poe’s legs.

BB-8 beeped something that sounded distinctly flatulent. 

Finn laughed. “I’ll take that as a yes. He’s a smart droid.” 

< _Friend-Finn is asuperiormateselectiondonotfuckthisupMaster-Poe,_ > the droid beeped as quickly and quietly as he possibly could, and Finn hid a smile, trying to pretend he didn’t quite follow. 

“But...why did you stay?” asked Finn, when Poe didn’t offer anything else. “I mean, I guess I can see why you got together, once I saw you fly with him, and...and all that.” He stared down at his fingertips and tried to quell his rolling stomach. “But later, you looked so miserable.”

“I was,” Poe said matter-of-factly. “I couldn’t really see it, though. Not for a long time.”

“Why not? Was it the...the sex? Or…?"

Then he remembered the look of fear in Poe’s face when Muran threatened to leave, and took a quick catalog of all the people who’d walked out of Poe’s life, by choice or by death; remembered that Poe had bottled his feelings about Finn for years because he didn't want to risk losing their friendship, but before he could correct himself, Poe glanced at him and said, “Well, that’s the other thing I didn’t understand for a long time. Even though the sex was great, it wasn’t anywhere near as incredible as it is when the other person actually cares about you.”

Finn considered that for a few moments, feeling his cheeks flush a little. But Poe couldn’t mean him. They’d only had sex a few times. And while Finn had thought it was great, incredible even, he also didn’t have much to compare it to. Poe probably meant someone else. “But...you really did propose to him?” asked Finn, trying to keep the feelings of inadequacy out of his voice.

“It was just like he said,” said Poe, still watching the stars. “We’d been fighting all night, fighting for weeks, really, about where this was going and what we were doing. He’d just talked me into signing another commission with the Navy, but then he was talking about transferring off Hosnia for some promotion, which wasn’t at all what we’d agreed to before, and-- Anyway, he said he thought we’d either end up married or hating each other at the end of it all. And I said I’d rather get married. And he asked if I meant it, and I said I did, even though…” Poe chewed over his words for a moment, then continued on a different track, “And he said okay, so we’ll get married, and I said yeah. Then we went to work. Then he blew up.”

Finn wanted to reach out and hold his hand, but he folded his hands together in his lap instead. “That was probably really tough.” 

BB-8 gave a gentle, almost sympathetic beep of agreement.

“It was,” Poe nodded. “Especially since I didn’t really tell anyone about how often we fought, or how many times he cheated on me. Iolo had no idea, and Karé...Karé didn’t like him, but not because of that. No one saw that part.” He looked down again, tracing his hand lightly over BB-8’s domed head. 

BB-8 beeped at him again, scolding. < _I did._ >

“I know,” said Poe with a sigh. “BeeBee knew, but I told him not to tell anyone.”

< _I would have. I was going to tell Designation-Karé. Primary directive is to care for Master-Poe, and-_ >

“I know,” Poe repeated. “He wanted to, but I told him...I told him I’d sell him if he did.”

“What!?”

BB-8 made a similar sound.

“I know, I’m the worst,” said Poe. “But it was this weird mixture of grief and...relief. Not that I wanted him to die,” he looked over hurriedly. “Just...I didn’t know how to get out of it. I had tried, and it-- But that wasn’t how I wanted it to happen...anyway, I didn't know what to do with all that, for a long time. "

“I think I know what you mean,” Finn nodded. “You didn’t give him your mom’s ring, though, when you asked him. Maybe that meant something? That it wasn’t a good idea?”

Poe gave a dry chuckle. “Thank the Force, no, I didn’t. But I didn’t have it. I didn’t wear it back then.”

“When did you start wearing it?”

“Well, pretty soon after that. I went back to Yavin to pick up some stuff after I went AWOL, and Dad asked me to wear it when I got to the Resistance. He gave me the chain for it.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I think it just made him feel better, having it with me. Or maybe it was making him too sad to have it in the house.” He was fiddling with it again, scratching at the skin just under the necklace. Then, with sudden resolve, he reached behind his neck and unclasped the chain. He spooled it into his fist, and stuck it into the blank space between their chairs. “Here.”

“Wh-What?” Finn sputtered.

“Take it.”

“What?”

“Take it,” Poe repeated, keeping his eyes locked on the stars ahead. 

“I can’t take that,” said Finn, blinking rapidly between Poe’s face and the outstretched hand. “That’s your--I don’t--”

Poe jiggled his fist in mid-air, glancing over a single, brief moment, then looking away. “Take it, Finn. Want me to toss it to you?”

“No, no, don’t throw it,” said Finn, leaning half out of the copilot chair to hold his hand out underneath Poe’s fist. Poe dropped the necklace in the palm of his hand, and Finn cradled it carefully as he settled back in his seat. “I don’t understand.” 

“You don’t have to wear it, if you don’t want to,” said Poe. “But I want you to have it.”

“Me?” asked Finn. He opened his hand, examining the little ring resting on his palm. 

“Yeah, you,” said Poe. 

“Why? I mean...I don’t understand,” said Finn. “Do you-- is this--” He couldn’t bring himself to say the words _marriage_ or _proposal,_ and in the absence of those words he had no idea what was happening.

Poe sighed heavily, then he dropped his hands off the controls. He stared at them for a few seconds, then climbed out of his chair and crossed the half pace to Finn’s. He looked down at him for a moment, then slowly, not at all gracefully, like a very large pet trying to squeeze into a small space, climbed into Finn’s lap. He wrapped his arms around Finn’s chest, tucking his shoulders under Finn’s arms, and buried his face in Finn’s neck, straddling his legs on either side of Finn’s hips, curling into him, pressing into him.

Finn tensed and waited, arms hovering over his back, clenching the necklace tight in his fist, until Poe had settled himself. Then, Poe let out a deep, long sigh. Finn was even more confused, but at least now he was warm, if a bit suffocated. Slowly, carefully, half-expecting Poe to launch away again, he lowered his arms and wrapped them around Poe’s back.

“I love you,” Poe murmured against his skin. “I don't even know how to--how to say how much I love you. And I'm sorry that I--I think I hurt you, and I'm sorry, and-- and I’ll do it better. Ask, better. Someday. I’d marry you tomorrow, but I know that’s probably not-- hell, we’re not even living on the same planet right now, and you’ve got your training, and I’m not trying to keep you from your destiny or whatever. I don't want to hold you back. But you know me better than anyone ever has, and I've never felt this way about anyone in my entire life, and if I can make you happy, I'll-- You should have it. I want you to have it.”

“But what if…” Finn started, and then couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence.

“When you want to break up for real, just give it back,” Poe shrugged.

“I don’t want to break up, Poe, we just got together. I just thought you...I mean...” said Finn, not at all sure what to say.

“Yeah, it’s probably too much too soon. Sorry.” Poe buried his face harder into Finn’s neck, almost to the point of discomfort. “You don’t have to take it.”

“No, no, it’s not that either,” said Finn, “Just...What if I die? What if I die, and it gets lost, or blown up, or...It's all you have left of your mom. I can't take that.”

“Finn, we’re always about to die. You and me, we keep ending up here, waiting to die, and I let it keep me from...for a long time, and I don’t want it to-- I want you to have it,” Poe repeated when he couldn’t manage to complete a thought. “I don’t want anyone else to have it. It's for you.”

“Okay,” said Finn, squeezing it so tightly the metal pinched his skin. “Okay. But what about my thing?”

“What?”

“My Force thing.”

Poe sighed out heavily. “I’ll just have to get used to it, I guess.”

“I don’t want you to get used to having your mind invaded, Poe!” Finn pulled back, trying to look him in the eyes, but Poe kept himself tightly pressed against him, like he was making up for all the hours of lost touching time. “I mean, of course I’ll keep working on controlling it, but-”

“Okay,” said Poe. 

“I might screw up again,” said Finn.

“Okay,” said Poe.

“I might see something you don’t want me to see,” said Finn.

“Okay,” said Poe.

“You can’t really be okay with this,” said Finn.

“I mean, I’m not _okay_ with it, but if that’s the price I have to pay to be with you, then I’ll pay it,” said Poe. “Whatever. I don’t really have anything to hide from you. You’re not Ren.”

“I’m not,” said Finn fiercely, almost more to himself.

“Of course you’re not. _You’re_ hot.”

Finn laughed, then felt guilty. “Don’t speak ill of the dead, Poe.”

“Okay. I won’t call him a greasy-haired, spoiled weasel who-”

“Stop, Rey’s back there!"

“Oh, there’s no way my little sister’s getting anywhere near that spoiled, no shower takin’, arrogant fuckhea-”

Finn laughed harder. “Little sister?”

“Yeah. I take my big brother role damn seriously.”

“Get up for a minute.”

“No, I’m comfy.”

“Come on, I want to put this on before I drop it down the air filter or something.”

Poe shifted back and out of Finn’s arms, but he tangled his hands in Finn’s shirt to maintain contact, not quite reaching under the fabric to brush Finn’s skin, but close. 

Finn fiddled with the clasp, small and awkward, and then Poe had taken it from him, those deft fingers, those quick hands, and fastened the chain around his neck. “Scaring you off yet?” he asked quietly, lightly touching the ring on Finn’s chest and refusing to meet his eyes.

“Nuh-uh,” said Finn, hyper-conscious of the new weight around his neck. “You don’t scare me. Are you trying to?”

“Maybe.” Poe cupped his face in both hands, and pulled him into a kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” said Finn, just before he kissed him again.

Poe’s lips froze mid-kiss, and he pulled back to look him in the eye. “Finn, you don’t have to say it just because I-”

“Why are you allowed to say it, and I’m not?” Finn interrupted him, staring him down. 

Poe opened his mouth to respond, but froze again. BB-8 rolled around from the captain’s chair and drifted toward the doorway, beeping in a way that sounded like laughter. 

Finn glanced behind him as BB-8 gave a little beep, almost to himself (< _Mission complete!_ >), and rolled out the door. Then he looked back at Poe, “Why do you look so surprised?” 

“I don’t know,” said Poe. “I’ve been kind of a jerk to you.”

“Uh, you have most definitely _not_ been the jerk here,” Finn said affectionately, pulling him back into his chest. "You were forced to hang out with your evil ex-boyfriend, spied on by your current boyfriend, faced down a crazy child-killing Admiral..."

Finn could feel Poe’s smirk against his chest where he was slowly melting against him again. "I wasn't even supposed to wear _clothes_ until my shift this morning,” Poe grumbled.

"Wasted some credits on nights at that hotel we didn't get to use," said Finn. "We should send Vancil a bill."

Poe chuckled, quickly going boneless and dead weight in his arms. "Kriff, I'm so _tired_."

"Go to sleep," said Finn.

"This can't be comfortable for you. You must be exhausted, too."

"Eh, you'll just fall on the floor if I conk out.”

“M’kay.” Poe let out another deep breath, pressing his nose back into Finn's neck. There was a moment when Finn thought he had fallen asleep, he was laying so quiet and still. "Do you really--" then he stopped himself.

"Love you? Yeah, dummy."

"Wh--" stopped again.

"Why? You want a list?"

"No."

"I think maybe you do," said Finn, teasing. "I mean, the primary reason is your looks."

Poe snorted. "Oh yeah?"

"Yup. It's got nothing to do with how brave you are, or how loyal and devoted to people you are. How you're funny, and fun to be around, and generous. Oh, and I definitely don't care that you're passionate and smart and sexy and kind of a hopeless romantic. Nope, I don't really care about any of that stuff."

"Just a hot piece of ass?"

“Uh-huh. That's ok, right?"

"Are you kidding? The significantly better looking, younger man thinks _I'm_ the hot one?"

"I didn't say you were the hot one. I think we’d get a pretty unanimous answer if we asked everyone which one of us is the hot one here."

Poe laughed. Finn felt him start to radiate a kind of embarrassed happiness, which fed into his own river of the same feelings, and then it was overtaken by the deep blue of oncoming dreams. “Go to sleep,” Finn told him. “You’ve about to pass out.”

“Mm,” said Poe. “Y’sure y’okay wfmeere?” Sleepiness was slurring his words.

“I’m fine,” said Finn, squeezing him tighter. “Go to sleep.”

“Kay.” Within a minute, he was snoring, that light grumbling growl in the back of his throat, and Finn closed his eyes and breathed in deep.


	14. Chapter 14

When Finn woke up, his lap was empty and he was curled into a ball, head twisted in an awkward position half-supported by the sharp metal console in the wall next to him. A thin blanket, riddled with desert mite holes and smelling faintly of old sweat and dried blood, probably pulled from a long-forgotten storage compartment, was draped over the front of his shoulders. Rey was helming the ship, a steaming cup of sweet-smelling tea in one hand. 

“Ow,” he muttered as his neck cracked, sitting up and stretching. “Where’s Poe?” He had vaguely felt Poe getting up earlier, the sudden coldness in his lap, but he’d fallen asleep again too quickly to register where he’d gone or that he hadn’t come back.

“Back in the hold,” said Rey. And then, without looking over at him, “Is that Poe’s ring?”

“Uh-huh.” Finn found himself smiling as he fiddled with it. The outer rim of the ring was smooth, and Finn could almost feel Poe’s fingertips tracing the silver over the years, wearing down the scratches, keeping it safe. The ring was small; it only fit down to the knuckle of his littlest finger, but he twisted it around, watching it shine under the bright vortex of stars, faintly wondering if Shara Bey was pleased, or apprehensive, or disappointed in what her son had chosen to do with this precious piece of metal. Then he tucked it under his shirt, close to his skin.

Rey was hiding her smile behind her cup. “Good. Guess you two figured it out, then.”

“Yeah.” Finn’s face flushed. “But I don’t think he meant...you know, that.”

“Hm?” Rey raised an eyebrow.

“ _That_ ,” said Finn, still feeling awkward at the words ‘marriage’ or ‘proposal’. “I think it was just...an intention. Maybe? I don’t care.” He fumbled with the ring through his shirt, fiddling with the chain around his neck. He’d never worn a piece of jewelry in his life. He wondered how long it would be before the weight felt natural, before he wasn’t conscious of its extra ounces and of his skin warming the cold places in the metal. “I mean, I care, I care a lot, I just don’t care if it means this or that, or…”

“Are you happy?”

“Yes.” Finn felt fierce with it, this happiness. Fierce and protective and, if he were honest, a little scared that any number of unseen or unknowable forces had sensed that happiness and were already conspiring to take it from him.

“Do you love him?”

“Yes,” Finn said, more softly.

“Then I’m happy,” Rey smiled. “I’m really, very happy.” Her smile faltered slightly, and she swiveled the chair to face him. “Do you trust me enough to try something?”

Finn swallowed hard, forcing himself to leave the ring alone and clasp his hands into his lap. He sensed immediately where this was heading. “You know I trust you,” although he couldn’t stop the reluctance in his voice.

Rey unclipped her lightsaber from her belt, and pulled the small, white blaster that Han Solo had given her out of its holster. She held them both out, one in each hand, palms flat and open. 

“Rey…”

“Please, just try,” said Rey. “You’re not going to hurt anyone. Just try. For me.”

Finn took a deep, heavy breath and let it out slowly. Then he took another one, even slower and deeper.

“Close your eyes.”

He did.

“Reach out with your feelings.”

 _Peace through order_ , was the first thought that floated through his nervousness and fear. _Peace through order, there will be--_ And then the stubborn voice, from lower in his body, from somewhere in his chest, piped up. _There will be peace that’s_ **_made_ ** _, we’ll have to find it, all of us, no one gives it to you, no one can make you take it. That’s what makes it peace, that’s what makes it hard, you can’t bludgeon your way into it, and you can’t run right into it, it has to be stumbled upon, it has to_ **_want_ ** _to be found_ -

He opened his eyes. His thoughts were muddled, his feelings were swirling, his anxiety was rising again, and he saw his outstretched hand was empty. The lightsaber and the blaster still sat in the palms of Rey’s hands.

“Okay,” she nodded. “Try again.”

“This is pointless,” said Finn. He still didn’t know how he’d done it before, wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Was, in no small way, relieved that it wasn’t working now.

“It isn’t,” she said. “You can do this. Try again, Finn. One more time.”

He sighed again, and closed his eyes. This time, he managed to keep the swirling thoughts pressed down into the bramble of thorny vines, or at least to let them drift by without comment. He could see Poe’s candle burning in the hold, along with some sleepy blues and oranges, and a sharp reddish-brown he didn’t entirely recognize, not at first, until he remembered that Nama Lorus was on board, and wouldn’t that be-

“Finn, quick, Poe’s in danger!” Rey shouted suddenly.

“What!?” Finn opened his eyes. “What’s wrong? How-” and saw that the lightsaber was in his hand. He recoiled immediately, thrusting the saber back toward her. “I knew it. I knew it! Rey, you can’t trust me with this. You can’t. I’ll go Dark, you have to take this and get it as far away from me as you can. This isn’t-”

Rey quickly slid out of her seat and knelt down in the space between him, grasping his hands tightly, pressing the lightsaber into his palm. “No, no. You’re seeing this the wrong way. Finn,” she said quietly, but firmly, and ducked her head down to force his eyes to meet hers. “This isn't the Dark Side. You’re a _protector_ , Finn.”

“What?” he blinked, still feeling like he wanted to throw the lightsaber as far away as he possibly could, possibly out an airlock, possibly down the gullet of a porg.

“First, I firmly believe that you can, and will, learn to use these powers when you need them and when you want them,” said Rey. “But Finn, you’re not a weapon. You’re the exact opposite. What you see, how you use the Force the most...those are powers of _connection_! How others are feeling, where they are, how you can understand them. The Force shows you all that. Even the Force echo was connecting you, back to yourself and all the others who lived through what you did. You’ve only physically manipulated the world around you when you felt you needed to protect someone you love.”

Rey inched a little closer, pressing their clasped hands onto his knees. “You used a lightsaber before, on Starkiller, to protect _me_ . You brought Karé’s blaster to your hand when it seemed like Poe was in trouble, you put the entire hangar _to sleep_ to protect him. You could have harmed someone there, but you didn’t. You acted on pure instinct, and that pure instinct was to incapacitate in the gentlest and least painful way possible. Finn, I know I’m right about this.”

Finn didn’t entirely trust himself to speak, at first. “Is...is that a…I mean, I don’t know if I...”

“Do you believe me?” Clearly, her tone suggested that it didn’t entirely matter whether Finn believed her or not, but he saw that it was important to her.

“I suppose so.” His head felt a bit muzzy. “I don’t...um, I still don’t want this, though,” and he pushed the lightsaber back into her hands. “Not...not yet. Maybe not ever.”

“I know,” Rey nodded, clipping it back onto her belt. “And that’s fine. I just don’t want you to be afraid of it.” And she smiled at him, proud and pleased and fond. “Don’t be afraid of the Force. Or yourself. Because you’re exactly as you were meant to be, and that is _good_.” She stood up and squeezed his shoulder.

“Okay,” said Finn, gnawing on his lower lip. “I’ll...I’ll think about that.”

“That’s all I ask,” said Rey.

He nodded a few times, and he gestured to the hallway behind him. “I’m gonna check on Poe...”

“Of course. We’ll be dropping out of hyperspace soon. Would you see if Nama has decided where she wants us to take her?”

“Yeah,” said Finn. He stumbled down the short hallway from the cockpit to the main holding area, dimly lit. To the left, slumped in the corner between the ‘fresher door and the hallway to the cockpit, was a pile of pilots: Karé was sleeping upright, with her cheek resting on the top of Thierssen’s head, who was asleep on her shoulder; Jess was snoring lightly in Karé’s lap, and Chewie was sprawled inelegantly behind her hip, head resting on the wall behind him, sleep-growling something distant and soothing.

Poe was sitting at the _dejarik_ table with a stylus in one hand, taking careful sips of a cup of caf with his other hand. Nama Lorus was sitting in the chair across from him, her entire face twisted in concentration, looking down at a datapad between them on the table. As Finn stepped closer, he saw that the two were playing dots-and-boxes, and suppressed a smile. That had been one of the first simple children’s games Poe had taught him, sometime on the _Falcon_ when the lines for a turn playing _dejarik_ were too long, and half the sabacc cards had been lost or shredded for porg nests.

“Hey,” Finn said quietly, leaning over to kiss Poe lightly on the cheek. “Who’s winning?”

“Anyone’s game right now.” Poe looked up and grinned at him, catching him by the shirt to hold him close enough to kiss his mouth. 

“Yech,” said Nama, wrinkling her nose. “No one needs to see that.”

“Yeah, I’ll remind you about this moment when you bring your first boyfriend home and we catch you making out on the couch,” said Poe, making a notch on the datapad.

If the reference to ‘home’ or the casual indication that Poe would be present to meet this future boyfriend surprised Nama at all, she didn’t show it. Finn smiled to himself. That was Poe, his constant assumption that he would always be present in your life, that immediate promise of family and closeness. At least for Finn, those prophecies seemed to be true. He wondered if Poe had always brought home stray creatures. He’d have to ask Kes Dameron the next time they spoke.

“I don’t want a boyfriend,” said Nama, taking the stylus to make her own mark on the board. “If they’re not stupid, they think I’m stupid.”

“Ah, that is tricky,” Poe nodded. “See, I know I’m dumb as a crate of rocks. But I’m pretty lucky ‘cause Finn likes ‘em dumb and cute.”

“I do, huh?” Finn teased. “Sure about that last part?”

“Lie to me a little, huh?” said Poe. “Otherwise, I’m just dumb.”

Finn laughed. “Rey says we’re nearly there.” Then he slid into the seat next to Poe, who quickly shifted his body close enough to touch, shoulder to knees, and left his cup of caf steaming on the table to reach underneath and grasp Finn's hand.

"What's it gonna be, kid?" Poe asked.

Nama shook her head, still contorting her mouth. "I'm thinking. I can't go here, because then you'll go-"

"Not the game," said Poe.

Nama didn't look up right away, merely flicked her eyes into the dead space between the datapad and Poe's caf cup. "What are you going to do next, Eight-Seven?"

"It's Fi-" Poe started, but Finn squeezed his hand and he shut his mouth.

"I live with Rey, at the Temple," said Finn. "But I’m staying another night on Ganthel before going back there."

"I may be in the brig, babe," said Poe.

"I think that’s a little dramatic, Poe," Finn shook his head, smirking. 

Poe seemed to take that as a challenge. "You can come rescue me again!”

"Isn't once enough?"

"I think we should reenact it every year. But the sexy version."

Finn laughed, feeling the tips of his ears warm. "Do I even want to know what that is?"

"Use a little imagination," Poe wiggled his eyebrows. "I've got a friend in the detention center, he can set it all up."

"You've got this all planned out, huh?"

"I have a lot of downtime these days. Want to hear about the outfits?"

"Ugh, you two are so gross," Jess groaned from across the room, her eyes still closed. "Just go make out and be in love somewhere else, kriff."

"I can't go back to the First Order," Nama said quietly. "Even if I wanted to, which…" she trailed off and didn't finish, but her expression was thoughtful.

"It's better out," said Finn. "It's hard, but it really is."

"I can’t let you choose the Senate, either," said Poe, still staring at the datapad and grasping Finn's hand tightly under the table, "Even out in the open, on Ganthel. I just don't trust them."

Nama smirked a little. "Maybe you're not completely stupid." She hesitated, and then looked up at Finn. "What's the Jedi Temple like?"

"Quiet," said Finn. "There's just Rey and Chewie and me right now, fixing it up. But more students will come soon. There's a small settlement not far away that's friendly to the Jedi and the Resistance. It's pretty there."

"Pretty?"

"The trees are nice. Oak trees, I think."

"I...don't know what that is," said Nama, and Finn knew it cost her to admit it. "What about your friend?"

"Teza?"

"She's terrifying," Jess piped up from the floor, sitting up and rubbing sleep out of her eyes. "But she's kriffing awesome. I want to be her when I grow up."

"I'm not one of you," said Nama, glaring around. "And I don't want to be."

Karé had stirred, too, and was smiling a little. "Teza would like you, I think."

Jess snorted. "She'd probably name you her successor."

“Successor?”

“Technically, she’s a warlord,” said Poe. “Used to be Resistance. Before that, Imperial.”

“Like I said. She’s a badass.”

Nama chuckled a little, like she caught a glimpse of a wild and chaotic breeze. "I'd like to rule a tribe. Like a savage queen."

"Mm, dial back the whole 'savage' concept before you meet her," Poe clicked the back of his teeth.

"A benevolent tyrant, then," said Nama, and it wasn’t entirely clear whether she was joking. "What do you think, Trooper?"

"I'd really prefer you didn't call me that," said Finn.

"Sorry," said Nama. “Eight-Seven."

“Finn,” said Poe, and this time, Finn let him finish the word.

“Right. Finn Eight-Seven,” said Nama. Finn wasn’t sure if she truly didn’t understand, or if she was willfully misunderstanding the many times people had tried to explain his name to her.

“No, just Finn-”

“Actually…” Finn trailed off, flushing a little. “I don’t mind that...the two, together. I really don’t.” Poe looked at him, questioning, and Finn shrugged. “It’s not who I am anymore, but…I was Eight-Seven for a lot longer than I was Finn.”

“Okay, buddy,” Poe nodded. “I guess you don’t get to pick your family name, and some families suck.” He leaned over and lightly kissed Finn’s shoulder, and Finn had to keep control of his smile before it got too wide and Jess started to tease them again. Then Poe was kissing his mouth, and a stylus was thrown in their faces, and the alerts began blaring notice that the _Falcon_ had reached Ganthel.

***

  
  


Rey deposited them at the southern edge of the Republic Navy airfield, in a patch of bare, cracked earth surrounded by scrubby chaparral and dark green, wide-leaf plants covered with sharp-looking spines. She and Chewie would take Nama to see whether Teza Nasz knew of other colonies of former First Order officers that might be safe, and whether Nama wanted to stay with them, while Poe and the pilots faced their return to base. 

Finn detected a hint of expectation, feeling both Poe and Rey wondering which of them he would choose to follow, but he kept his hand linked in Poe’s and ambled down the gangplank with the pilots and BB-8 without any hesitation. He was supposed to have one more day on Ganthel, after all, and he wanted it.

“We’ll come back to get you tomorrow,” said Rey.

“Don’t hurry,” said Poe, winking at her.

“So glad to know how much you’ll miss me!” Rey had teased him as the ramp closed in her face, and the ship quickly bolted away before the Republic could scramble any starships to run the intruders off of their protected space.

Poe re-tied the arms of his flight suit around his waist, wiping a sheen of sweat off his forehead in the bright midday sun, and they began to walk. They didn’t need to walk for very long; soon, a large speeder with an open bed full of armored personnel approached from the north. Finn was grateful for that. Ganthel wasn’t nearly as hot as Jakku had been, but it was still warm, and dry, and they hadn’t brought any water. 

“Thierssen? What the hell are you doing out here?” barked the driver, a short Bothan with pale, nearly blond fur.

“Hi, Dhul,” said Thierssen, leaning over the hood of the speeder. “Can you give us a lift?”

“We’re investigating a ship that just violated airspace and landed here. Did you-”

“That was our ride,” said Poe, already climbing into the back of the speeder and pulling Finn up by the hand. They crashed together a little as BB-8 hoisted himself into the bed and bashed at their knees.

“Who’re you?” one of the soldiers glared at Finn.

“This is my boyfriend, Finn,” said Poe cheerfully. Finn waved.

“What company are you?”

Finn realized, belatedly, that he was still wearing his New Republic uniform, rumpled though it was. “Uh...D Company.”

“D Company?” the soldier repeated, looking confused and suspicious.

“Yeah, as in, you're a dumbass, Calrick,” Jess knocked the top of the soldier's helmet as she hopped up into the truck bed and sat down on the floor.

Poe chuckled, and grabbed Finn's hand to wrap his arm around his shoulders. “So how pissed is Captain Deomor?”

“That you skipped shift this morning? After all that fuss about getting you back up in the sky?” Dhul shook his head. “Man, are you in for it.”

“Goody,” said Poe.

“She seemed pretty concerned that you all had gone AWOL again,” Dhul continued as he turned the speeder around and started back in the direction from which they came. “But then when we realized Thierssen was gone, too, we thought maybe you’d murdered him or something.”

“It’s true. I was digging a hole for his body out here, but turns out I hadn’t hit him hard enough,” said Poe casually, looking at the mountains.

“I’m stubborn like that,” Jack smiled a little.

“Come on, give me some credit,” said Karé. “I’ve been keeping you two from killing each other for months.”

"Only 'cause Corellians are immune to stonefish-based poisons."

The speeder quickly reached the edge of a duracrete airstrip, where dozens of gray and blue trimmed X-wings sat in neat rows, gleaming in the sun.

“DAMERON! Where, in the name of every asteroid in the Ortisia Belt, have you been?” shouted a formidable woman marching toward the speeder as they unloaded. She had a Captain’s falcon on her collar, long blond hair tied back in a utilitarian ponytail, and very handsome, but stern and square, features. 

“Sir,” Poe saluted her. “Sorry about this morning, sir, I was-”

“Do you know what kind of paperwork we’ve gotten on you four in the last twelve hours?” the Captain continued, raging. “Transfer papers to a redacted location. Then remanding papers back to Ganthel. Then a permanent no-fly restriction, then a provisional no-fly restriction, then a demotion to Junior Lieutenant-”

“Oh come on, that’s just insulting,” said Jess, crossing her arms. Then she took a quick glance at the Captain’s face and straightened into a stiff spine. “Sorry, sir.”

“I’ve been exchanging comms with the Rear Admiral all morning, trying to figure this mess out. Kesyk thought we’d been sliced,” the Captain nodded at the figure scuttling to her left, clearly an aide.

“Did you ever meet Admiral Vancil?” Thierssen asked calmly.

Captain Deomor stared at him a moment. “Vancil? Crazy Felian Vancil? He’s dead. He died in the Cataclysm.”

“That’s what I thought, too,” said Thierssen. 

“He is not dead,” said Poe. “He’s very much alive, though still very crazy.”

The Captain frowned. “Are you telling me that you’ve been-”

“I’m really not sure how much we’re allowed to tell you, Captain, without getting into more trouble,” said Thierssen. “To be honest, we’re still rather confused ourselves. But we can tell you what we know.”

Poe raised an eyebrow at him, and Thierssen gave a barely perceptible nod. 

The Captain gave a deep, long-suffering sigh, looking at each of the former Resistance pilots like they were wayward, troublesome children, and Thierssen with both trust and reluctance. “Right. Better come debrief in my study,” she said, turning to hike back across the landing pads toward the base’s buildings.

“Wait! Wait, wait,” Jess suddenly screeched to a halt, causing a small bodily traffic jam. “What about Poe’s test? Can he still take it? We made a banner!”

“You did?” Poe smiled at her.

“I mean, it’s back at our apartment, but yeah! _POE DAMERON, STAR FUCKER_ ,” and Poe burst out laughing.

“One thing at a time,” said the Captain, hand on her hip, clearly used to ignoring a certain amount of pilot banter. “Though I think it’s wise to push that out again, Dameron, until we sort through all this mess. I don’t know if I have the authority to let you up. Wait, who’s this?” she pointed at Finn.

“This is my boyfriend, Finn,” said Poe, just as cheerfully as he did before. He seemed to revel in the statement. 

Finn started to wave, then remembered his manners and gave her a proper salute.

Once inside, Finn sat on a chair in the hall outside the Captain’s personal study while the pilots were debriefed. After a few minutes, Jess and Karé were dismissed and they waited quietly with him, straining to hear anything filtering in under the door frame. Finally, Poe reappeared, flight suit fully zipped back to his chin again, with BB-8 rolling next to him. The door slid shut with Thierssen still inside, and Poe took a few steps before spinning on the ball of his foot to face the three of them, still sitting on the bench.

“Well?” Finn asked.

“S’gotta be a formal investigation,” said Poe with a shrug. 

“Suspension?”

“Not at the moment,” said Poe. “Maybe after. Thierssen's trying to get her to drop all of it and reschedule the cert. Jess and Karé are off the hook with a warning, though. He could’ve been a pretty decent lawyer, if he weren’t such a good pilot.”

“So what now?” Finn asked as Poe started to shuffle down the hall, away from the office. He was still a little stunned that no one had, as yet, asked him for his Republic serial number, his authorization for being on base, identification of any kind…

“Proceed with my duties as usual, until informed otherwise," said Poe. “I swapped for a graveyard shift tomorrow, ‘cause of your visit, so I’ll come back to base after Rey picks you up,” and he bumped Finn’s shoulder as he rejoined their hands. “I’ll have BeeBee-Ate send you a note if the MPs are there to greet me.”

“Oh,” said Finn. Something tightened in his throat at the thought of leaving again.

“We’re going home to sleeeeeep,” said Jess, pretending to fall asleep on Karé’s shoulder.

“I’m going to take a three-hour shower,” said Karé. “And then drink whatever’s left of the party booze.”

"Oh! Or that. Let's do that!"

"I guess we'll go make sure nobody blew up the hotel or anything," said Poe, and they walked outside the base to hail down a ride.

***

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” said Poe as he walked into the hotel room. “That motherfucker.”

“What’s wrong?” asked Finn, peeking over his shoulder.

Poe started pacing back and forth in front of the sofa table, continuing to swear loudly to the empty room (“Muran, I don’t know what kind of bug you’ve put in here, but this is extremely _not okay!_ ”). Two packets of perfectly-folded clothes, tied up in a bow with an identical silky black ribbon, were sitting on either side of a silver bucket full of ice and a bottle of champagne. Finn recognized his gray leather vest, and Poe’s brown jacket with the Rebel phoenix, both left back on the _Ligeia_ and abandoned in their pell-mell escape. 

“Well,” said Finn, trying not to laugh, “You do love that jacket. And I only have one other pair of pants besides these, so...”

Poe’s pitch increased. “There’s a _card_ ?” and, reading with disbelief, “ _No-fly withdrawn tomorrow, happy trails_!? YOU ARE SO WEIRD, MURAN! BeeBee-Ate, run a sweep, will you?” Poe immediately crossed to check the cupboard under the sink for suspicious materials. He and the droid hunted the entire room, looking for devices or unusual tech while Finn changed out of the Republic uniform and into a fresh pair of pants and a shirt from his rucksack. Then, as Poe was unscrewing the light switches and BB-8 was systematically zapping each lamp connection, he pulled the bottle of champagne out of the ice bucket and unwrapped the foil.

“This just pops off, right?” he asked, twisting at the wire.

Poe looked up. “What are you doing? That thing could be poisoned.”

Finn laughed. “I doubt it. I don’t really care. I want a drink.” 

“We are not drinking that,” said Poe, crossing his arms with a grumpy look. “I will fish an old bottle out of the river before we drink my psycho ex’s stalker champagne.”

“You don’t have to have any,” said Finn as he popped the cork out of the bottle and poured himself a glass. He’d only had champagne once, at the auction-party on Corellia, and even then the circumstances had allowed for only a few polite sips, but he recalled enjoying the bubbles and the sweetness, and the way Poe smiled when he drank it. After a taste, “Huh, that’s...here,” and he shoved the glass in Poe’s hand.

Poe looked at it, inspecting the bubbles, sniffing it like a law enforcement officer who suspected spice contamination or worse. 

Finn poured another small glass for himself. “Look, am I excited that your extremely weird ex-fiance might be listening to us have sex over some commlink he pasted into the wallpaper? No. I am not. But--" and he slowly pulled an arm around Poe’s waist, drawing him in before he could launch away to renew his search for hidden equipment, "I don’t that’s really happening. And if we drink this bottle, I don’t think I’ll really care, and neither will you. You’re here,” he drew him closer, “And I’m here, and he’s not. He lost, I win. So. Drink up, flyboy.” And he grinned as he tipped the glass back.

“But I--” Poe started, then sighed. “I can’t say no to you.”

“I know.”

“...Damn, this is really good.”

“I know, right?” Finn took another large sip, and waited for Poe’s brain to catch up.

“Wait,” _There it is_. “Sex?” and Poe beamed.

“Well,” said Finn, shrugging his glass up, “It's either that or Galactic Expansion."

Poe smacked him in the shoulder, and Finn laughed, and Poe kissed him, and BB-8 grumbled something about powering down in the corner < _-for the next hundred years_.>


	15. Chapter 15

Surprisingly, now, they took their time.

After the first glass of champagne, Finn suggested, with feigned innocence, that Poe change out of the electric blue flight suit he’d been wearing for hours. Poe was happy to leave it in a crumpled heap near the door and briefly considered lighting on fire, later. He declined to put on other clothes, though he didn’t demand Finn’s immediate nakedness in return. Instead, he suggested it at the end of each subsequent glass of champagne (“It’s warm in here, isn’t it? Should I open the windows? Or maybe you should just take off your shirt…”) and Finn seemed happy to play along, his eyes set with a permanent spark.

Once the champagne was finished, they realized they hadn’t eaten a proper meal in quite some time (the increase in giggling was a good sign), and Finn ordered them a tray of sandwiches from the room service menu. (“Ooh! They have sandwiches! I love sandwiches.” “I know how you do.” “Well, yeah! Who wouldn't? You can have any kind of filling! Any kind of bread! Savory or sweet, portable, filling, keeps in a pack until lunch. Why would anyone bother with ration bars when there are _sandwiches_?” “You are so goddamn fucking cute, buddy.”)

But instead of jumping into bed while they waited, they opened another bottle of wine - the chilled white that Poe had shoved in the cooler in another lifetime - and moved to the balcony to let the sun warm their skin while they slowly drank away the stress and obligation and reminders of the upcoming separation. 

As the sun set and the air cooled, Poe slid their balcony chairs together and pulled one of the blankets off the bed so they could cuddle under it and watch the stars come out one-by-one. Finn told him which sky colors reminded him of Rey’s Force energy (the pale blue of the last of the day, the dark midnight of oncoming night), and Poe’s (the deep orange and glowing gold of the sun’s last rays), and Poe talked about getting lost in a purple-and-white nebula while outrunning some First Order patrols, and how its beauty had struck him so mute that he’d never actually told anyone about it before, never having the right words to describe it.

And then it was night, and Poe was leading Finn to bed, and they made love with that same gentle, unhurried pace, testing every possible touch, wringing out every gasp and groan, every opportunity for a kiss, every moment precious. Poe had never considered being taken from behind as a particularly romantic position - effective, certainly; passionate, surely; but there was an animalistic quality that had, up to now, permanently tallied it in the “fucking” category. But the way Finn caressed his shoulders and his hips left him breathless; how Finn tousled his hair and moved so slow, so agonizingly slow, and yet slid each thrust into just the right place to have Poe shaking and strung out, barely able to lift his head from his forearms, his throat going raw from the depth of his moaning. Then Finn had pulled him back and up on his knees to slide one hand around his chest, holding him close, kissing him so sweetly, stroking his cock with his other hand. Poe felt like melted butter, like wet clay, like something held and molded and _loved_ , and how was he so goddamn lucky? And had anyone ever treated him quite like this, or would he have even recognized it if they had? And even though Finn went even slower, thrusting only half as hard and half as deep with Poe in his lap and all of their weight in his hips, the orgasm Finn drew out of him left him only partially conscious; lost somewhere in that nebula, and couldn’t time and space just disappear for a little longer, and oh, fuck, _oh fuck-_

After, Poe still refused to sleep. Finn seemed to feel the same, as they lay on their sides, looking at each other, for once not pressed together like fused elements but at arm’s distance, soaking up each other’s shadowed faces in the darkness. “You tired?” Poe asked finally.

“Yeah,” said Finn. He blinked several times, but his eyes stayed open. “Don’t want to go to sleep.”

“Me neither,” said Poe, shifting a little closer to reach a hand onto Finn’s hip. “Then it’ll be tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” said Finn with a nod. “And then I have to-” and he stopped, as though saying it would break a spell. “But you should sleep. We’ll still have a little time in the morning.”

Poe considered that for a moment, and then asked instead, “Have you ever had a bath?”

“Like in bacta?”

 _Jackpot_. He grinned. “Hang on," leaning over to kiss Finn’s nose, and rolled out of bed. 

The bathtub wasn’t quite big enough for the two of them to fit comfortably, but Poe was determined. He filled it with piping hot water, promising himself that next time he’d bring candles, and salts, and basically raid Jess and Karé’s apartment for appropriate supplies, before calling Finn in to join him. He did at least locate the last bottle of red wine he’d squirreled away.

Finn seemed skeptical. “You just sit in it?”

“Get in and try it,” said Poe. “It’s nice.” Once Finn had settled himself, hissing a bit at the heat on his skin, Poe tucked himself behind Finn’s back, pulling him to rest on his chest and sliding his legs on either side of Finn’s torso, and soaped up a washcloth to gently scrub him clean.

“What’s that word, for people who are always looking for whatever feels good?” Finn asked suddenly.

Poe paused in washing the scar on Finn’s upper back, tracing the roping pink-and-brown mess of tissue and grafts with a gentle hand. “Hedonist?”

“Right. Hedonist. That’s you,” said Finn, sighing out as he settled his back against Poe’s chest, resting his head on Poe’s shoulder and closing his eyes.

Poe laughed a little. “Yeah, that sounds about right. Like it?”

“Mm.” Finn allowed himself to have his arms raised one at a time for their washing, pliant under Poe’s hands, then his taught abdominals, his soft stomach. Poe didn’t even try to tickle under his arms or poke his waist as he scrubbed, just gentle washing, treasuring every bit of his skin.

“I have a question,” said Poe, finally putting the washcloth aside and wrapping his arms around Finn’s stomach.

“Fire,” said Finn, eyes still closed.

“Have you ever been in love? Before?” _Before Rey_ , he meant, but he assumed that was obvious.

Finn kept his eyes closed for a moment, but Poe felt him tense, and he squeezed him around the middle and kissed from his temple to his neck to try to ease him back into that relaxed jelly state. “Yes,” Finn said finally.

“Will you tell me?”

Finn opened his eyes, but didn’t move, still resting his head on Poe’s shoulder. “There’s not much to tell. Her designation was OM-1111, but we-- I called her Omi.”

“Was she on the _Finalizer_ with you?”

“Starkiller, actually. I went back and forth, you know, as part of the platoon for Hux’s personal detail. Wherever he went, I went. She was just based on Starkiller.”

“How did you meet?”

“Sanitation duty.”

Poe laughed. “Flirting over the ‘fresher?”

So did Finn. “Yeah, kind of. You take what you can get.”

“You’re damn right. Get it, Finn.”

Finn chuckled again, and fell silent.

“What was she like? Why did you love her?” Poe prompted.

“Well…” Finn started slowly, and then hesitated, pausing for thought. “She was funny, and sort of...gentle. Not that she wasn’t a good soldier, she was. But she made these quiet jokes under her breath, so you could barely hear them. Like she couldn’t _not_ make them, like she couldn’t keep them in her own head.” He shifted to push his face closer to Poe’s, resting his forehead on Poe’s jaw. “One time, she made some crack about Phasma _right_ when she turned to walk away and I just about lost it.” Poe could feel him smiling. 

“Was she still on Starkiller when we…?”

“No,” said Finn. “No, Phasma transferred her off-base somewhere. Someone told her about us, after we-- I mean, after they found out we were...um, having sex.” Then he paused, and added, “Well, that’s what Phasma told me, anyway. They could have just shot her. I guess they probably did. I don’t really know. But I never saw her again.”

Poe squeezed him tight again, rubbing a gentle thumb against his stomach. “First Order didn’t really approve of relationships, huh?”

“Oh no,” Finn shook his head, laughing darkly at the suggestion. “Nothing to get in the way of the ultimate duty to the Order. Didn’t stop people, of course. But it never ended well.”

“I’m sorry,” said Poe, and he meant it.

Finn shrugged, and fell silent again. He started stroking one of the arms Poe had wrapped tightly around him. “I have a question,” he said after a while.

“Shoot,” said Poe.

“You said pretty much all of your boyfriends are jerks. Were they all as bad as Muran?”

Poe laughed. “Muran was my most significant relationship, in pretty much all the ways you can define that.” And then, because the champagne wasn’t poisoned, and because it defined years of his life, even after the accident, he felt that he had to add, “To be fair, Muran has some good qualities that you didn’t really get to see. We had one really great year, maybe two if you stretch out some stuff and ignore a few things. I mean, I’m not saying that I don’t wish I had broken up with him sooner, but--”

Finn rubbed his arm again, soothingly, like he understood. “What about the others?” A pause. “Will you tell me?”

“Sure,” said Poe. He shifted briefly under Finn, just enough to swallow half a glass of wine, and then re-wrap himself. “My first boyfriend, Braxis, was on Yavin. I was 14, and he was...19.”

“Um,” said Finn, in a strangely protective way.

Poe chuckled a little. “I know. My dad was not happy.”

“Isn’t that...um, isn’t that against the rules? Or the law, or whatever?” Finn twisted to look at him.

Poe shrugged. “It didn’t last very long. He broke my heart, of course, but I learned a lot. None of the right lessons, probably, but…” He reached for one of Finn’s hands, examining the wrinkling of his fingers, how the palms of his hands were a lighter shade of brown. “There wasn’t anyone significant through flight school, I was too immature and too self-absorbed for a relationship. And then I met Muran a couple of weeks into my first real post, on Hosnia.” _And we were probably both too immature and self-absorbed._

“Why don’t you count the five months?”

Again, that excellent memory. “Because we weren’t exclusive for the first five months. At least, he wasn't. I thought we were; I wasn’t seeing anyone else. But apparently that didn’t count to Muran unless we had a specific conversation about it, so it was this big ol’ thing.” 

“I really hate him,” said Finn, and Poe laughed. “Also, in case it needs saying, I would like us to be exclusive.”

“Yes,” said Poe, smiling into Finn's shoulder. He kissed the little beads of water off his wet skin. “Yes, I’m yours.”

“Mine,” Finn repeated quietly, as though testing out the word, suddenly locking their fingers together. 

Poe wrapped his free hand around to gently touch the ring on Finn’s chest. “Yours.” 

The bathwater was starting to cool, but Finn made no moves to get up. “Anyone after Muran?”

“Elav,” said Poe. “He was a nice one, actually. He was a tech on D’Qar, just a fantastic x-wing mechanic.”

“What happened?”

“He broke up with me,” Poe said, still pressed into Finn’s shoulder. “I think he just realized he didn’t like me that much, but he said it was too hard to watch me...you know, watch me go out on missions and not know if I was going to come back. He was nice about it, just…” he shrugged. 

“What happened to him?” asked Finn, because of course he knew that no one named Elav had crowded onto the Falcon after they escaped from Crait.

“He got another boyfriend. Moyric was a great guy, too, I was really happy for them,” said Poe, which was mostly true. “Their transport was the second one hit by the _Supremacy.”_

“I’m sorry, Poe.”

“It’s okay.” Poe let out a little sigh. “So, you know, I sort of gave up on boyfriends after all that. Not a great track record with keeping boyfriends alive.” And then, in case he had misrepresented himself, he felt he had to clarify, “That’s not every single-- there were a lot of...uh...non-significant people. And a lot of those were jerks. Or just-- not good choices. I don’t make very good choices, Finn.”

“Should I take that personally?” he teased, closing his eyes and settling his head on Poe’s shoulder again.

Poe kissed his cheek. “No. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

They kissed for a while, and then Poe felt goosebumps building on Finn’s skin as the water cooled even more, and he pulled them out of the bath and dried Finn off with the same careful attention to every part of his body as he had in washing him. Finn tucked him close as they climbed into bed, folding his arm around Poe’s waist, resting his face in Poe’s neck, slotting Poe’s ass into the cradle of his hips, close enough that Poe considered offering to fuck one more time. But it was so warm, and they were so tired, and Poe didn’t think he could move; and soon, he didn’t think he could speak, and it wasn’t possible to avoid sleep any longer.

***

It was hard to describe how he knew; he just did.

One minute, he was working on his x-wing in the D’Qar hangar, music blaring over the speakers and his pilots circling around him, joking, drinking, dancing, their usual crush of bodies and sounds. He was barefoot and wearing an old, threadbare pair of canvas pants with holes in the knees and a white tank permanently stained with engine grease and sweat, his favorite late-night gearhead clothes from D'Qar, long since lost. He knew a lot of things: _knew_ it wasn’t quite real, _knew_ how many of them were dead now, but it filled him with such hope and joy and happiness that he let it continue to flow around him, breathing deeply into the nostalgia, listening to Snap waxing on about propulsar engines and the brilliance of Karé’s smile. And then the next minute, it had all faded to the background, and he just knew something else. He could feel it. Like there was something calling him - some presence in the corner of his mind, something that reminded him of the lush jungle on Yavin IV, bright verdant green and warm reddish-brown and fuchsia pink.

He padded through the base, past the command center and the med bay and the armory, until he came to the little supply closet tucked in the middle of the intersection between the different housing sections and the communal refresher. 

Finn was sitting on the floor, back pressed up against the shelves of cleaning supplies with his arms wrapped around his knees. He was wearing a pair of faded blue pajamas, and looked up when he heard Poe approach. His face immediately crumpled, completely bereft and ashamed. “Poe, I’m so sorry. I know I shouldn’t be here, I don’t know how to get out-”

“It’s okay,” said Poe, shuffling into the closet to sit next to him. There was just barely room on the floor for the two of them to sit next to each other, if their knees were pulled up and they sat very close. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I don’t know how I keep ending up here,” said Finn, rocking a little. “I don’t know how to shut it off-”

“Don’t worry,” Poe repeated, linking their hands and settling their shoulders together. “It’s okay, Finn. I’ll sit here with you.”

Finn set his jaw, and glanced once at Poe, before closing his eyes and taking more deep breaths - presumably, trying to meditate his way out of Poe’s mind. Poe watched him, feeling detached and sleepy, then rested his head on Finn’s shoulder.

“Why are your memories stored on the _Finalizer_?” Finn said after a few minutes.

“What?” Poe looked up, and then around. “This is a supply closet.”

Finn’s eyebrows crushed together. “What? No, we’re sitting against the control panel. And out there are all the holding cells,” he pointed down the hall.

“Huh,” said Poe. “I see the barracks on D’Qar. I guess you never saw them, though, you never went to that part of the base.”

“No,” Finn shook his head. “No, I just see the _Finalizer._ Weird.”

“Yeah.”

“...I really am so sorry.”

“Finn, it’s okay. I’m not mad.” Poe rubbed his thumb against the palm of Finn’s hand. “It’s kinda nice, having you here. I’m pretty sad about you leaving in the morning.” He hadn’t meant to say that, briefly worrying now that Finn would be worried about him worrying. But it was the truth, and his own mind was certainly a place for truth, and the worries soon faded back into the subconscious where they belonged.

“I am, too,” said Finn. “I don’t really want to leave.”

“You’ll come back.” _Right? Yes. Right? Stop. He’s going to come back._

“I will.” Finn squeezed his hand. “Of course I will.”

“And it’s not gonna happen _every_ time we have sex, right?” Poe smiled at him, and was relieved to see Finn chuckle a little.

“Hopefully not.”

“Just when it’s really mind-blowingly fantastic.”

“Um…”

“...which is going to be every time, right?” Poe winked at him.

Finn laughed again. “Right.”

“I mean, I might get a little worried about my performance the first time it doesn’t happen.”

“ _Your_ performance?” Finn shook his head, smiling bashfully, and then rested his head on Poe’s shoulder.

“Well, you’re the sexiest man in three galaxies,” Poe wrapped an arm around him, “So if anyone’s going to be deficient, it’s this old-” 

“Shut up, Poe.”

“Okay.” Poe let them sit a moment longer, then stood up, hands still linked in Finn’s, pulling him to his feet. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” asked Finn nervously.

“Wanna show you something.” Poe led him through the barracks, winding along the passageways, a left, a right, another right, onward through the maze as it wound back into the heart of the base. Finally, he found the right door (how did he know it was the right door? Everything about this was curious and magical, just like Finn) and palmed it open without hesitation. “Come on,” Poe repeated, pulling Finn gently into the room.

It was the _Falcon_ . Specifically, one of the side-passages leading to the hyperdrive connective-conduits. Finn was kneeling on the floor next to an exposed panel full of pipes and wiring, an ancient, cracked datapad of schematics next to him, consulting the diagrams and trying to compare the schematics to the mess of wires and taped-together conduits. He was looking very frustrated, several days’ work of sweat and grime on his face, still wearing the undershirt and pants from the First Order officer’s uniform he’d stolen on board the _Supremacy._

Poe was sitting across from him, down the hall, with his back to another partially-exposed panel. He had a canteen cup in his lap and was absently gnawing on a piece of fruit - someone had sourced a handful of enormous apples during a fuel supply, and had sliced them up to pass out among the crew as a treat from the field rations. Poe, too, looked sweaty and dirty from several days full of close quarters and repairs on the _Falcon_ , dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep, from haunted dreams, from old wounds and new ones. 

“I don’t remember this, when is this?” asked Finn.

“Two or three days after Crait, I think,” said Poe, watching Finn work, likely with nearly the same intense expression and dark eyes as the version of himself from his memories. “Right before the General sent me out to find Maz.”

The memory of Finn dropped a tool, swore, and then consulted the schematic, and swore again. “Nothing on this ship makes any sense!” he shouted behind him.

The answering voice, full of excitement, echoing from deep inside a panel, was unmistakably Rose Tico. “I know! Isn’t it great!?” 

“Sure. It’s great,” said Finn sarcastically, and slumped down on his heels. He sighed and pulled a quarter of a ration bar out of his back pocket, unwrapping it with a frown. It was some sort of brown grain mixed with salty dried fruit, partially squashed, and looked very unappetizing.

“Mrawr?” cooed a porg from inside the exposed panel next to him. Finn looked over, and the porg squawked louder at the attention. She had constructed a nest out of the circles of wires (one of so many they discovered on the _Falcon_ , those flying rats bred like crazy) and had folded her wings protectively around three little babies, big amber eyes staring up at Finn, all cheeping and trilling and cooing.

“This is my snack,” Finn told the porg. “You should have stayed on Ahch-To if you wanted reliable meals.”

“Mweep!” the baby porgs chirruped.

Finn looked at his ration bar, twisted his face in disgust, and pulled it out of the wrapping. “Fine, you take it.” He broke it up into little pieces, feeding one to each of the babies, and then the mother, and then back around in turns until it was gone.

Poe chuckled, under his breath, from his place on the floor. Then he got up and crossed the hall, holding the cup out to Finn. “Want some?”

Finn brightened considerably as he looked up into Poe’s face. “Hi! Thanks!” He examined the sliced fruit, selected a piece, and scooted over for Poe to sit down next to him. After the first bite, he lit up even more. “I like it! What is this?”

“Apple," said Poe, watching him with a strangely serious expression, barely a hint of a smile, but his eyes were bright like starlight in a dark sky.

"Apple," Finn repeated, taking another small bite. “It’s crunchy,” he commented as he savored it, “And sweet, but not that sweet. Wow, this is so good!”

Poe silently offered the cup again.

"Oh no, that's your lunch, I can't--"

"Take it. I'm not hungry."

"Okay," said Finn, chomping happily on another piece. “Mmm.”

The real Finn watched this exchange, softly amused, but then looked over at Poe with confusion in his eyes. “Why are you showing me this?”

Poe smiled, still watching his memory of Finn eat another slice of fruit. “It’s the moment I realized I was in love with you.”

Finn raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yup.”

“Because I gave my food to a porg? I didn’t want it anyway,” said Finn, sounding incredulous.

“Not just that. It was sort of everything,” Poe swirled his arm around at the entire scene. “Watching you work. How...kind you were. How happy you got about that stupid apple. It just hit me, all of a sudden. ‘Oh no, I love him’ _._ ”

“Oh no?” Finn teased.

“Oh no,” said Poe, shaking his head. “Oh, you stupid, stupid, idiot,” as he stared at himself and the admittedly lovestruck expression in his own eyes as Finn slowly devoured every single bite of the apple.

“But we--” Finn scrunched his eyebrows. “But we barely knew each other. I mean, we’d just met. How could you be-”

Poe shrugged again. “Believe me, buddy, I didn’t exactly plan to fall for an ex-Stormtrooper with almost as big of a death wish as me. But what would I have needed more time with you to learn?” he finally tore his eyes away from the memory and looked at the Finn in front of him. “I already knew you were nice, and generous, and brave, and smart, and beautiful. I mean, what else is there?”

“I could make really bad jokes?” said Finn. 

“Nope, also knew you were funny.” Poe smiled at him. “Face it, Finn, you’re the complete package. I don’t know why the hell you’re slumming around with me.” And he turned back to watch the Finn of his memories lick the apple juice off his fingers, then try to pet the mother porg in the wall.

“Hm. I think I’ve already addressed that concern,” said Finn, pulling Poe away from the memory and into a kiss.

Poe closed his eyes, and slept for hours.


	16. Chapter 16

They made love again in the morning.

“Damn you, early riser,” Poe had yawned when he opened his eyes and saw that Finn was already smiling at him. “Was gonna wake you up with oral sex.”

And Finn hadn’t responded to that, hadn’t said anything at all. Hadn’t really wanted to reject an offer so sweetly given, hadn’t wanted to admit that it might be a little while before he could trust Poe enough to let himself wake up second (of course he trusted him, he did, just...not that, yet). He just pulled him into a deep kiss, wrapping his arms under Poe’s shoulders, and then another kiss, and then rolled on top of him to kiss him harder, Poe sighing out happily under his weight. And then Finn was kissing down his chest, continuing to explore the soft and sensitive places he hadn’t discovered the night before, and then it was Poe being woken up with oral sex. 

“Hey, buddy, that’s no fair,” Poe breathed out, stretching his arms up to grasp the headboard, “I don’t deser-- I should be spoiling you. I should always be the one spoiling yo--” and then Finn found another way to shut him up, to reduce him to low sounds and ancient languages, until, some time later, Poe let out a strangled, “Oh, _Force,_ Finn, don’t stop,” and then neither of them could form words in any language from the noises their love made, only the ones that were both universal and unique to them alone.

They lay tangled in the sheets, and the mess, and the limbs, for a long time and still neither spoke. Finn felt strange breaking the stillness, and Poe seemed a little fragile - burying his face in Finn’s neck, arms wrapped tightly around his waist, letting out deep sighs at infrequent intervals that were entirely too far from “happily fucked into silence” and entirely too close to sadness. 

BB-8 tried to cheer them up, twirling around the other side of the room with almost aggressively-happy sounding beeps, until Poe grumpily remarked that it seemed like the droid was happy Finn was leaving, in response to which BB-8 immediately switched to a low, mournful, funereal march that made then both laugh as they dragged themselves into the shower.

They kissed for a long time under the hot water, until the room was so full of steam it was getting difficult to breathe, and even then, a little longer after that.

  
  


***

  
  


“Didn’t we just do this?” Poe joked, squeezing Finn’s hand. “I guess I wasn’t spending enough of my life in spaceports and hangars.” Sometime between the hotel and the spaceport, Poe had managed to join BB-8 in regaining (or faking) cheerfulness, telling long, rambling stories and jokes heavily laden with sexual innuendo, while Finn had slipped deeper into melancholy. 

Finn didn’t laugh. He tried to smile, but that wasn’t really working either. In fact, he felt pretty choked up, and he was grateful when Poe busied himself with adjusting the strap of Finn's rucksack on his shoulder because if he had to look into those warm, dark brown eyes, here in the bright midday sunshine, he might not be able to keep himself from crying. Which seemed stupid, really, it was just yesterday that he thought they were breaking up, but now it-- and he didn’t want to--

Even when Poe reached for his hand, stepping close enough for a goodbye kiss, he still couldn’t look at him. “I--” Finn started, and then he bit his lip and buried his face in Poe’s shoulder.

“Hey now, it’s all right,” said Poe, folding him into a hug. “Comm me when you get there, okay? Next two days in a row I have off, I’ll borrow a ship and come see you. My turn. Yeah?” He tried to draw Finn’s face back up with a nudge of his nose, but Finn just nodded into his neck. “Should be sooner than four weeks. Probably more like two, maybe three. Okay?”

“I--” Finn tried again. “Okay,” he breathed out, barely managing sound. _Two weeks. Ten days. That’s nothing. That’s a shift roto._ He clutched the back of Poe’s jacket, arms wrapped so tightly around his ribs that Poe seemed to be having trouble taking full breaths. He tried to loosen his grip, but he couldn’t.

“I love you. So much,” said Poe, soft in his ear.

“Uh-huh," Finn's voice was pitched much higher, and he nodded against Poe’s neck again. He felt a little moisture trickle out of his eyes, and breathed hard into his stinging throat. “Y--you t--”

“I know.” Poe rubbed circles on his back. “It's okay. Go learn some badass Jedi stuff. I’ll see you soon. I’m not going anywhere.” 

Finn stepped back, head down, nodding a bit too hard, crushing the heel of one hand into his eye. He met Poe’s eyes once, saw him try to smile, and tried to smile back. Then he croaked out, again forcing the sound through his windpipe, “Bye.”

“Bye, Finn.” Poe successfully managed a smile, a tender, soft one.

Finn walked a few paces to the base of the gangplank, pausing to wipe his other eye, and to pat the top of BB-8’s dome. “Bye, Bee. Take care of him, okay?”

< _Affirmative_ ,> BB-8 responded, rubbing his dome affectionately against Finn’s leg. < _It is the primary directive. I have a futile mission._ >

That made him chuckle a little. “I’ll miss you, too.”

And then he paused. _You can do it. You’ll see him in a few weeks. It’s okay. Just board the ship. Sooner you leave, the sooner you’ll come back. He’s not going anywhere. You have work to do, and he has work, and it’s fine, really, you’ll be fine, he’ll be fine, it’s not a big deal..._

He forced one boot onto the edge of the gangplank. Then another. And then he had turned and walked steadily back across the landing pad to once again throw his arms around Poe.

“I can’t do it,” Finn said, buried in Poe’s neck and breathing deeply into that herbaceous smell. “I don’t know what to-- but this is stupid. This is stupid.”

“Yeah, long distance sucks,” said Poe, gently stroking the back of his head. “But it won’t be forever.”

“Six years?” said Finn. “Six years is a long time.” _What if you meet someone else? Someone else who’s here, who’s here all the time, maybe someone who lives next door to you, who’s also a pilot and who makes you laugh and doesn’t read your mind while you’re asleep and-_

Poe sighed heavily. “We can take a step back, Finn, if that would be easier for you. I can wait. I'd wait for you forev-"

“That’s _not_ what I _meant_ ,” Finn said forcefully, giving his body a little jerk as he hugged him closer. “Stop trying to break up with me.” 

Poe made a little sniffing chuckle. “I think last time it was you trying to break up with me.”

“Whatever. Stop it. That’s stupid. Neither of us want to break up.”

“Okay. I’m sorry.” Poe rubbed his back a little more, and then let out another sigh. “But Rey’s waiting to take off, hon. You gotta do this.”

“No I don’t,” said Finn, stubbornness hardening under his skin. “I don’t need it, Poe. I can stay here. I want to stay here with you.”

“Oh buddy,” Poe breathed out softly, into his ear. “I want you to. Force, I really do. I miss you like crazy. Did I tell you BeeBee-Ate put together some kriffing ‘Separated Mate’ protocol for me? It apparently involves a lot of-”

< _Frozen sugar-infused dairy product!_ > BB-8 chimed at their feet. 

Finn smiled, which squeezed some of the wetness out of his eyes and onto his cheek. “You mean ice cream?”

< _Quantity in excess of standard serving size was recommended. With multi-colored sugar-wax pellets and sweetened syrup of cacao powder._ >

“Don’t get too excited, there wasn’t nearly enough porn in this protocol-”

Finn actually found himself laughing as BB-8 scolded him.

< _Sexual holovids were reserved for Operation: Vital Organ Pain, R5-D7 and Testor were very insistent that I not include too many in Separated Mate in case of_ ->

“Vital Organ Pain?” Poe was laughing now, shifting slightly to look down at BB-8. “You mean heartbreak? Or did I have a seizure sometime and you didn’t tell me?”

< _Heartbreak. Revising databanks,_ > BB-8 whirred.

“So I may gain, like, twenty pounds in the next two weeks from BeeBee stuffing me full of pity food,” said Poe, wrapping his arms back around Finn. “But you need to keep training.”

“I don’t want to be a Jedi,” said Finn, and then, clarifying, “I don’t want to be a weapon.” _You're a protector_ , Rey's words echoed in his mind. _But what if she's wrong?_

“Nobody’s going to force you to be a Jedi. That’s not your only choice. You don’t have to build a lightsaber, you don’t have to be a-- a knight,” said Poe. “You don’t have to do that part. But Finn,” and he nudged Finn’s face up to look at him, “You can’t shut down that side of you, either. Avoiding these powers and hoping they go away isn’t going to work. And you shouldn’t want to! What you have is incredible.”

“I don’t want it,” said Finn. “I never wanted this. I never asked for any of this.”

“I know. You got a real rough deal, babe. It’s not fair.” Poe kissed his forehead. “But you are _so goddamn amazing_ , Finn. You’re going to learn how to use the Force, and I know you’re going to use it to help people. That’s you. That’s one of the things I love most about you.” 

Finn sighed.

“Besides, you’d miss Rey.”

“But I miss you, too,” Finn countered immediately. It was true, he would miss Rey. He’d worked so hard, for so long, to be near her. She was his family. But so was Poe. Wrapped around that burning coal, with that blue-gray pillar of strength sitting in the ship behind him. Rey and Poe, the two anchors of his life. “If I have to...to pick, then I pick you.”

Poe was quiet for a moment. Finn thought perhaps he was leaving space for Finn to continue talking, but then he noticed the colors changing: from rusty-orange to deep rose-red to a darker blood color and then, suddenly, resolve. Calm, cerulean blue resolve. And Finn was just about to ask what happened, what he’d decided to do, when Poe stepped back out of the hug. “You don’t have to choose between us, Finn,” he said slowly.

“It kind of seems like I do,” said Finn. “I’ve never...I’ve never _had this_ before, Poe, I’m not-”

“Shush,” said Poe. “That’s not what I’m saying. _You_ don’t have to pick. I’ll do it. I pick you.”

“What? You already did, remember?” Finn tapped at the ring under his shirt.

“No, for real,” said Poe, and he dipped down to pick up the gray overnight bag at his feet. “Okay, let’s go!” he said brightly. “Ready, BeeBee?”

BB-8 cheered, zooming happily around them in concentric circles.

“What?” said Finn, feeling suddenly unmoored. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m coming with you,” said Poe. “To Kamparas.”

“What, now?”

“Yup. Right now.” Poe smiled at him. “Got my favorite jacket and at least one clean pair of undershorts. That’s all I need.”

“You...you can’t go AWOL again, they’ll court martial you,” said Finn, eyes wide. “They could _shoot you for desertion_ this time, Poe!”

“Nah,” said Poe. “Dishonorable discharge. They’ll probably be relieved to get rid of me, at this point.”

Finn felt scandalized. “You can’t be _dishonorably discharged._ You’re-- you’re the most honorable person I know!”

Poe laughed, loudly. “That’s really not true. And I don’t think anyone could make the argument that I’ve served the Republic with honor or distinction. I’m okay with that, really. Turns out, I can’t fight for something I don’t respect. I can’t become like them, you know?”

 _Like the First Order, firing on unarmed transports, while Finn begged him to disobey his orders._ “But what about flying?”

Poe shrugged, and pointed at the _Falcon_ . 

“Flying in combat? Flying X-wings? The thing that you’re going crazy without?” Finn sputtered. “You can’t throw that away just for me.”

“Now who’s being dramatic?” Poe was smiling wider now.

“Huh?”

“I was going crazy without you, Finn,” said Poe patiently. “Yeah, I miss it. Yeah, it was good to fly again, but it doesn’t mean anything if I lose you to get it.” He shrugged again. “Maybe I can buy an old T-65 and fix it up. Kamparas might need air defense. Someone to do the milk run. Chewie can’t be the only non-Jedi around, he’ll get lonely.”

“But-- but what about--” Finn sputtered, clearly running out of arguments. “Are you-”

“Don’t ask me if I’m sure,” said Poe. “Look at me.”

Finn did. Finn looked at him, squarely in those deep, warm, dark brown eyes (they were shining a little now), saw again how his shoulders relaxed, how he was standing there comfortably, waiting calmly, smiling like he had no cares or concerns at all. Swirling with clear blue and citrine yellow as bright as the sky overhead. Waiting for Finn’s brain to catch up. Waiting for Finn to accept. “What if you regret it?” Finn whispered.

Poe laughed again, lacing his fingers with Finn’s, pulling him into a brief kiss. “Regret? Are you kidding? This is the best idea I’ve ever had.” He kissed him again, then took a step toward the _Falcon_. 

_ <Friend-Finn! Friend-Rey! Friend-Finn! _> BB-8 followed, chanting in a monotone beep.

“You’re going to have to live with all the horrible sounds, you know,” Poe directed down to him. Finn was trying not to trip as BB-8 continued to circle their feet.

< _Primary directive is to look after Master-Poe. Master-Poe is better cared for by ingesting the standard serving of sugar-infused dairy product than excessive servings covered in saline solution and fermented vegetable malt._ >

“What’s-”

“He means whisky. I drink too much when I’m lonely.”

< _Friend-Finn also requires that Master-Poe adhere to the recommended exercise regimen, based on previous memory storage. Master-Poe’s base vitals are improved at all levels during extended contact with Friend-Finn except heart rate, hence the recommended exercise regimen. Running diagnostic to determine if Friend-Finn’s unique bio-signature correlates to increase in cardiac events in other sentients; data inconclusive._ >

Poe was laughing now. “Finn doesn’t cause heart attacks, BeeBee, that was just me swooning.”

“You what now?”

< _Updating databanks_ ,> BB-8 whirred.

“Though really, I only went running with you back on Ajan Kloss as an excuse to spend more time with you,” said Poe, “So there’s an equal chance I’ll gain twenty pounds from laying around in bed with you all day.”

“Jess told me once that sex burns calories,” said Finn. He couldn’t quite remember ever feeling this happy before. He glanced skyward, briefly, as though there might be a literal giant falcon about to swoop in and peck out his eyes, or a sudden explosive attack, but there was only sunshine, and warmth, and Poe's hand in his.

“Technically, it does,” Poe grinned. “Not nearly as much as running, though.”

“Huh. That’s sounding like a challenge, Dameron.”

Poe laughed. “Challenge accepted. Kiss me, please.”

Finn did. He kissed him so hard that he dipped Poe back to cradle his head in the crook of his elbow, drawing his waist closer, a deep swooping arch. When Finn finally let him up for breath, they were both laughing, stumbling a little on the duracrete, flushed and nervous and excited. 

"Okay!" said Poe. He sounded elated. "Do I need to go ask Rey for permission to come aboard?

“Would you two kindly hurry up so we can leave, already?” Rey shouted, loudly enough to be heard clearly from the cockpit.

“Guess that’s a ‘yes’,” Poe beamed, hoisted the bag on his shoulder, and wrapped an arm around Finn's waist. He didn’t look back at Ganthel once. He looked at Finn, grinning wide, eyes shining. “Take me home, Finn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all SO MUCH for reading, for commenting, sharing your thoughts and your excitement (and your angst). I'm so grateful for the support, and so glad you all enjoyed the story. I really don't know if there'll be another installment - I drafted something Extremely Schmoopsy as a short epilogue, but that was before I changed the ending so it doesn't really fit anymore. I have half a mind to attempt "Rose and Threepio solve a murder mystery," since I feel bad I couldn't fit either of them into these stories. Again, thank you so, so much for reading!


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